


Blackout

by Barid (Finale)



Series: Blacking Out [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fifth Year Changes, Fix-It, Gen, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Horcrux Hunting, Irritable Immortals, M/M, Multi, Regulus 'Resurrected' Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finale/pseuds/Barid
Summary: A Black brother resurrected because he still has work to do. An immortal who can't grasp the concept of ‘don't meddle’. A war on the verge of restarting.Harry is about to have a very interesting 5th year.





	1. The Resurrection of Regulus Black

            For the first time in who knows how long Regulus takes a breath and knows that’s wrong. Remembers the Inferi and hands dragging him down, water choking him but knowing at least the Horucrux was gone, that it could be destroyed. That Voldemort could be denied the immortality he desired so damn much he’d fracture his own soul. A Horcrux, a magic so awful it had actually revolted his Mother when he’d asked about what they were. 

            “You know, that was damn dumb,” a voice says, a voice he recognizes and a tone too idly to be true.

            “Hello Esther,” he coughs, throat dry and how can it be dry when he _drowned_? Oh wait, Drink of Despair. “Funny seeing you here.”

            “Especially since you should be dead?” she asks, and he can hear the smirk that he knows has to be on her face. “Yeah, got a bit fed up with that star boy.”

            “What did you _do_?”

            “What does it seem like? I resurrected you,” Esther says, as if she hadn’t done one of the darkest bits of magic possible, as well as one thought to be _impossible_ anyway. Or at least, the type of necromancy she had to have done, because he feels completely alive in a way he shouldn’t.

            Inferi, after all, were half dead, half not, and so very, very trapped…

            “It’s not as if it’s hard for me to do things like that,” she says, bitterness seeping into her voice and he knows why.

            After all, what’s denying death to an immortal? 

* * *

                                                            

            “So it’s been…almost fifteen years?” he asks, sipping his bottle of water slowly.

            According to her, it would take a few days for his body to process more than liquids, like thin soups and water. While he looks like he’d aged, while his body felt perfectly fine and without the damage he knew the Inferi should have caused, there were still somethings that didn’t come completely alright, like his digestive system, or at least needed a bit more time.

            “Give or take,” she hums, but it’s not unusual for her to lose track of years. Three thousand years was a long time to live after all, and Regulus knows for her own sanity she’s made herself forget things, made herself ignore the progression of years. “It was…I wouldn’t quite say calm for about eleven of them, but Dark Wizards had the sense to keep their heads down after Voldemort’s debacle. Then things started up again, dark creatures crawling out of where they’d hid and people who shouldn’t meet up meeting up.” 

            “You’re hiding something,” he says flatly.

            “Well yeah, but that’s not exactly new,” she points out. “I hide shit all the time.” 

            “Esther. _What. The. Hell. Are. You. Hiding_?”

            “So, Voldemort got vanquished by a baby, your brother supposedly betrayed the Potters to the Dark side, the snake fucker is back according to reliable sources, in a much more unpleasant type of resurrection I used on you, and I decided it may be a good idea to bring you back.” She tilts her head slightly, frowning a bit. “Oh! It turns out your brother didn’t betray the Potters. They’d been betrayed by a different friend, Peter something or other.”

            “Pettigrew,” Regulus says, recalling a bafflingly cowardly Gryffindor. For the seconds between Esther explaining that and verifying Sirius’s innocence… “Wait, why were the Potters being targeted anyway? And when you say Potters…” 

            “James Potter married Lily Evans not long after you died. They had a son not too long after that. For some reason Voldemort increased targeting them, and I’ve never found out why,” she says, scowling. She hates not knowing something, and something like this would be particularly galling to not know.

            “But on the Halloween 1981 Voldemort managed to find them. Pettigrew was apparently their Secret Keeper after they’d gone into hiding and he told the snake fucker were to find them and he tried to kill the Potters. James died in defense of Lily and their son Harry, but Lily wasn’t able to escape either. She died in defense of Harry, and somehow, when Voldemort tried to kill Harry, the Killing Curse rebounded back on him.”

           “What?” Regulus asks flatly. How the hell… 

           “What is right. I’ve lived for over three thousand years and I’ve never heard of that happening before,” she says, frown deepening in thought. “Fascinating though.”

            “Esther, why did people think Sirius betrayed the Potters if Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper?” Regulus asks, not entirely sure he wants the answer. He thinks he can guess anyway…after all, it’s not like their entire family wasn’t known for having a bit of Dark to them. Apt that they’d been named Black.

           “Because who makes the coward the Secret Keeper?” she drawls. “The best friend, the man who defied his Dark family and turned to the Light? How easily could he have hidden, how easily could he have betrayed his friends, just like the snake people always suspected him to be hidden in red and gold? On top of that, Sirius chased after Pettigrew, trying to catch the bastard, but Pettigrew screamed accusations about ‘how could Sirius betray Lily and James’! Then, one of them used a spell that blew up the street and all that was left of Pettigrew was a finger. Pretty damning scene.”

            “And the second they used Veritaserum during his trial he should have gone…” he trails off as Esther shakes her head.

            “He didn’t get a trial,” she says quietly. “Again, the scene was pretty damning, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if a Black betrayed the Light and everyone assumed that he was the Secret Keeper, including other members of the Light. Dumbledore did nothing, didn’t suggest a trial, none of them did. So instead he was thrown in Azkaban for thirteen years. He somehow escaped, and I think is in contact with Harry Potter somehow, but that’s the last I know.” 

            “Merlin,” Regulus breaths, staring at his bottle of water. “How could everything have gone to hell so badly?”

            “Because life sucks,” she snarks. “Life sucks balls.”

            “ _Esther_.” 

           “What? It does.”

           “ ** _Esther_**.”

           “Fine, fine,” she says, waving a hand at him slightly. “Do you have any ideas of what you’d like to do next?” 

           “12 Grimmald Place,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Going there I mean. Then I’ve got a place to live and think of what to do next.” And even though his childhood had been pretty awful there, it was still home and right now he needed some stability. His Mother was probably dead, based on Esther not mention her at all.

           “Good idea,” she agrees. “Come on. I think I remember how to Apparate there, but there's a few other things you need to know.”

           “Okay.”         

* * *

    

            Regulus frowns as Esther lets go of his bicep, noticing something…off about his house. Something about the wards.

            “They’re active,” he realizes.

            “What?”

            “The wards. They’re active,” he explains. “Which they should only be if a living Black is in the house, and none of my relatives should be here. Narcissa always hated it, called it depressing, Bellatrix is in Azkaban, Andromeda is specifically excluded from the wards, and I’m assuming my parents are both dead?” he asks, glancing at Esther who nods. “And I can’t see Sirius being here, he hated it and everything it stood for in our family.”

            “Well, we’ll only know if we try,” she says cheerfully. “And if you accidentally die in the process, I can always resurrect you again.” 

            “Thanks, that’s so encouraging,” he drawls, giving her a flat look.

            Still, he walks up to the door, still sensing the oddness of the wards, like someone unfamiliar with how they worked had tried to adjust them or force through them. But underlying them are the original wards, wards that he as the last remaining Black heir could change. Even if Sirius for some baffling reason was at the house, with his disownment he couldn’t properly do a damn thing. It would take an overwhelming amount of power to do anything, an amount that would draw attention. 

            He opens the door, and can’t even bring himself to be surprised at what he sees.

            “For fucks sake Sirius,” he grumbles, giving the gaping Light wizards and witches another flat look. “What the hell are you lot doing in my house?” 

* * *

 

            Sirius can’t stop gaping at his scowling brother, or the snickering woman next to him. _Regulus._ Regulus who should be fifteen years dead, killed by Death Eaters for trying to back out. Instead, sitting in front of them all, taping his fingers irritably against the arm of a moth-eaten chair and with Kreacher staring up at Regulus in complete delight. 

            “How are you alive?” Sirius finally asks, breaking the silence. They were supposed to wait for Dumbledore, but he just can’t. He needs to know what the hell is going on. “Merlin, how did you actually die? Did you die?”

            “Yes, I did die,” Regulus says, rolling his eyes in the same infuriating manner he did when they were kids. “I drowned in a cave filled with Inferi.”

            “What?” Sirius asks blankly. “They killed you like that?” He’d never really cared about how Regulus had died before, but if it was like _that_ … And why the hell is Kreacher suddenly wincing and looking so upset? The nasty little shit never looks ashamed…

            “No. Technically I killed myself like that,” Regulus says, voice horrifyingly calm, as if he’s talking about the weather. “Discovered Voldemort had made at least one Horcrux. Decided after the snake fucker tortured Kreacher that I was not okay with serving him, and the best thing I could do was destroy a locket that was a Horcrux. Besides, there’s lines even I was and still am unwilling to cross and a Horucrux is at the very top of the list.”

            “And did you?” Tonks asks quietly, surprising him a bit. His younger cousin is studying Regulus intently, as if looking for the lie on his face, or the silent woman next to him. “Destroy it I mean?” she clarifies.

            “I’m not sure if it was properly destroyed,” he admits, looking down at Kreacher, and it’s not an avoiding gaze, but a studying one now aimed at the House Elf. “I’m guessing no?” he asks gently, carefully placing a hand on Kreacher’s head.

            “No. Kreacher could find no way of doing it,” he says miserably, as if it’s the House Elf’s greatest shame. “No. Master died, and Kreacher could not finish what he started.” 

            “So it’s somewhere hidden in the house then?” Regulus asks, the woman sitting next to him suddenly looking much more interested.

            Only then does Sirius realize that neither of them have given her name. 

            “Yes. Kreacher hid it, hoping to someday find a method of destroying it.” 

            “Fiendfyer. A goblin forged sword. Basilisk venom,” the woman says, startling him after her silence. Her voice is deeper than he’d expected, and faintly accented in a way he’s not familiar with. “Those are three methods of destroying a Horcrux. I know there are more, but I’m blanking on them right now.” She’s tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the arm of her chair, frowningly and looking deep in thought. “Damn, really can’t remember,” she grumbles, pouting slightly.

            “You don’t remember everything you know,” Regulus points out to her, seemingly ignoring the rest of them just to reassure her. “You’ve said yourself you’d probably go insane if you did just due to sheer quantity.”

            _What?_  

            “What?” Molly asks, and Merlin, he’d forgotten the entire Order is still here and this is bad. 

            He’d forced his way past the wards to access the house and offer it up to use as an Order headquarters. He hates it, hates it with a passion nearing his loathing for Peter, but he’d still offered it. He hadn’t expected Dumbledore to require him to stay here, or how hard it even was to access it in the end. As the last surviving son, one who ‘betrayed’ his Light-serving friends, a large part of him had expected his Mother to have remade him an heir. No, she’d stayed a hateful bitch and refused him that, not that he really _cared_ …

            Would have made things easier though. Meant he could throw Regulus out. 

            “Nothing,” the woman says, waving a hand as if waving away the odd words. “ _Regardless._ Regulus and I came here because we assumed the house would be empty and we needed a place to stay.”

            “Speaking of that, how the hell did you get passed the wards? I know you were still disowned when I died at least,” Regulus asks. He keeps glancing at Tonks, frowning slightly as if something about the Auror is bothering him and _oh_. 

            Tonks looks a lot like Andromeda, that’s right. 

            “Forced my way through,” he admits. 

            “You know you could have literally blown up the house by doing that, right?” Regulus asks him dryly, giving him an unimpressed look. “Or revealed to the Muggles around us that there is suddenly a house where there previously wasn’t? Which would have revealed you to the Ministry _you fucking idiot_ ,” he hisses, looking much angrier than Sirius would have expected.

            “Why do you care?” Sirius asks, and wait, why doesn’t Regulus seem surprised that he’s with a bunch of known Light wizards and witches? 

            “Why do I care? Why do I fucking care that you were in Azkaban for almost eleven years for something you didn’t even do?!?! You’re still my brother Sirius!” Regulus snarls, knuckles going white as he clutches the arms of his chair. “Merlin! You ended up in one of the worst jails in the world! And no one who was supposedly your friend tried to help you!” he snaps, glaring at the Order members standing.

            Sirius spots Molly and Arthur wince, and Moody look uncomfortable. He bites back a grimace of his own. He gets why none of them stuck their necks out to help him; everything about that Halloween seemed so damning…But still. No one demanded a trial for him. No one demanded Veritaserum get used on him. He’s…not accepted it yet, but maybe…

            “Hell, none of them have really helped you now either,” Regulus says softly, breaking Sirius from his own thoughts. “After all, you’re still a criminal on the run even though it seems all these so-called friends of yours and Dumbledore know the truth. Why hasn’t there been a trial yet?”

            Sirius feels his mouth go dry and clenches his own hands tightly. He can feel his fingernails cut into his skin and he doesn’t want to respond because, well. That’s a question he’s asked himself every day since the truth came out to the Order.

_Why won’t you help me? Why won’t you free me?_

_Why are you punishing me?_

* * *

 

“Why?” Regulus repeats softly. “Why did none of you help him? Why are you now doing the bare minimum to help him?” He raises a hand as he spots Molly Weasely’s face go red in anger and her mouth open to defend herself. “Okay, with you and your husband I get it. You’ve got the political power of a gnat. But you really can’t tell me that Dumbledore couldn’t do a damn thing? That he couldn’t have claimed he witnessed or came across something that made him doubtful of Sirius’s guilt?” 

            “Regulus, _enough_ ,” Esther says softly, dark eyes flickering around the room. If she hasn’t sensed something, he’ll snog Lupin. And probably die five seconds later by a furious Sirius, but it would be funny at least…

            Then Dumbledore strides in and it’s all Regulus can do to not lunge for his throat. 

            “Sirius, I received your message, are you…” Dumbledore trails off, blue eyes studying Regulus over half-moon glasses that he doesn’t think the old coot even needs. “Ah. I see you aren’t seeing things.”

            “Do you normally first accuse people of hallucinations?” Esther drawls, crossing her legs. “Or is Sirius Black an exception?” 

            “Something makes me suspect not,” Regulus drawls, interrupting Dumbledore even as he opens his mouth. “Seeing as an accusation like that makes a person easier to control. Should my brother have faith in what he sees? Or just what he’s told he should be seeing?” 

            He has to bite back a smirk as he spots the slight twitch near Dumbledore’s right eye. While a Death Eater he’d become very good at reading body language, listening for hidden meaning in sentences. It’s part of how he’d figured out that the locket was a Horcrux, and how he survived long enough to try and destroy it. Also, well, knowing Esther for any period of time makes you good at it since you have to figure out when she’s bullshitting and when she’s being serious.

            It could be _incredibly_ hard.

            “I had been under the impression that you had been dead Regulus,” Dumbledore says, an almost kindly, grandfatherly tone to his voice that almost makes him roll his eyes, but can’t let the old coot catch on too soon that he doesn’t believe a damn word out of his mouth or trusts him anymore than he trusts Voldemort. “So it is a valid concern, especially since he has been trying to clean out the house. Your parents could have left something behind.” 

            “And you what? Thought the rest of them were going along with a delusion without giving you a hint that’s all it was?” Regulus asks, gesturing to the room at large. “Supposedly you’re a smart man professor, but that’s just idiotic. And besides, why would my parents leave anything behind? With me dead and Sirius in jail, ownership of 12 Grimmauld Place belongs to Narcissa, who they liked.”

            “Paranoia,” Dumbledore replies. “A trap left behind in case someone attempted to force entry into the house that Narcissa Malfoy would have known how to avoid. It is a logical concern.”

            “No, a ‘logical concern’ would have been you lot worrying while forcing your way through the wards in the first place,” Esther says, tapping her fingers again against the armchair. “Seeing as that could have badly and lethally backfired.” She smiles slightly, and it’s not a very nice expression, but one Regulus has seen several times before, but never at him. “I am curious Professor. Who made the first attempt? Sirius? Even though the wards are the sort that could have ripped his magic from him? Caused this house to explode and revealed it to Muggle London, all while possibly killing him or injuring him so badly he would be easily captured? Or did you?” The disdain dripping from her voice makes it obvious what she believes, and what Regulus agrees with. 

            “Who are you?” Dumbledore asks, sidestepping Esther’s taunt. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you from your Hogwarts days.” 

            “Likely because I was never a student there,” she says, rolling her eyes overtly. “I had better taste than that. I was a student at Yeshiva Meor in Tzfat. Before you ask, I met Regulus when traveling after graduation. I was…curious as to what was going on in England at the time, since it was so disconnected to much of the world. It was so unimportant I didn’t realize how bad it was here until visiting.” 

            Regulus has to bite down on his lip to avoid laughing at the offended look on everyone else’s faces. Esther had a point though. Outside of Europe really, Voldemort’s actions hadn’t stirred up that much. Not like Grindewald, who’d almost destroyed New York, and did destroy parts of Istanbul, Hong Kong and Kyoto.

            “Regulus Black was still at Hogwarts then,” Dumbledore says, blue eyes colder than Regulus’s ever seen them, and he’s dealt with the man’s quiet disdain for Slytherin’s his entire academic career. “There are only a few ways you could have met him then.” 

            “I’m not a Death Eater,” Esther says, rolling her eyes and her sleeves up. Both her forearms are bare of the Dark Mark, which magic could never hide. He had noticed his missing when he’d been resurrected though. How she'd accomplished that he isn't sure of, but it is Esther. She's done weirder. “Why would I get involved in an English mess? It wasn’t affecting Israel at all, and his beliefs idiotic anyway. Do you know how bad all your inbreeding is with purebloods? It’s ridiculous. But no, I meet Regulus at the bookstore in Diagon Alley and was curious about all the books on warding he was looking at.”

            “You tried to steal the one from me,” he reminds her.

            It really was how they’d met. He’d always been interested in warding, and he’d slipped away from the house to go pick up a few new books from Flourish and Blotts. Thankfully his Mother had been too busy fighting with Sirius to notice him vanishing for several hours. He…he’d hidden it from the rest of his family. Regulus knows that is weird, that he’d hidden his interest, but in hindsight it probably was helpful.

            Otherwise Voldemort probably would have had other ‘uses’ for him…

            “Well yes, it looked interesting and I have not issue with taking things I want,” she says, smirking slightly. She’d actually only been trying to take it because she’d been bored and wanted to mess with _someone_. “And the book was certainly a thing I wanted.”

            “And didn’t get since I hit you with it instead.”

            “You knocked over an entire shelf and hit me with that.”

            “You were fine.”

            “Knocked. A. Shelf. On. Me.”

            “You. Were. Fine. And I got to keep the book, so all’s well that ended well!”

            “What?” Sirius asks faintly. “Since when have you been interested in warding? And when did that even happen? I don’t remember you making any friends.”

            “Sirius, we barely ever spoke,” Regulus drawls, rolling his eyes at his brother. They’re starting to get sore with how often he’s doing that today… “So of course you would have missed it. Besides, it was the summer you were busy being dramatic and running away to be adopted by the Potters.” 

            “I wasn’t being…”

            “Enough!” Dumbledore finally snaps.

            Hmmm. The old coot’s patience is finally done. Now what will he do?

* * *

 

            Esther bites back a smirk at the old man’s frustration. She knows they’re both being uncooperative, both keeping everyone else off balance. Evading questions and demanding more answers than giving them. But really, no one here deserves a damn thing from either of them. Regulus had already given up more than they’d ever realized and she…

            Well actually she just doesn’t give a damn about anyone not Regulus here.

            “Enough what?” she asks, keeping her voice innocently curious. “Enough reminding each other that no one knows a damn thing? Enough reminding you that there’s more to the world than just Great Britain? Enough questioning you on things you’re afraid to answer?” She smiles again, and knows it’s as pleasant looking as her earlier. “Enough reminding you of your failures?”

            She watches a gnarled hand clench, wide sleeves covering them from almost everyone else’s view. She can tell he’s grinding his teeth, seeking patience that he hadn’t expected to lose. It’s almost enough to make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, messing with a man who caused Regulus so much aggravation over the years. Yes, a lot of it was because Regulus had been a supporter of pureblood supremacy, but _still_. It likely wouldn’t have taken so deep a root in Slytherin House if he’d at least done a better job at hiding his dislike, or his favoritism for Gryffindor. And even after Regulus had died it hadn’t stopped…

            “You need to answer a question for us before we continue on Professor,” Regulus says, tone even and measured where her’s in tauntingly innocent. Oh, she hadn’t thought he’d ask this so soon~

            “Why did you spread so many false rumors about how I died?”


	2. Demands

            _What?_              

            Sirius listens to startled murmurs break out around him, but he can’t understand any of them over the roar of white noise in his head and _Merlin_ , so many things making horrifying sense. Remus had offhandedly mentioned a different account than the one he’d been told, but at the time he’d thought nothing of it. Just that maybe his boyfriend had forgotten exactly what happened. But now that he thinks of it, every time someone had made a comment about his death, there’d been some slight variation.

            On top of that, based on what Regulus had said, how _could_ Dumbledore have known _anything_ about Regulus’s death? He hadn’t been involved in Regulus’s search for the Horocrux, probably hadn’t known about the cave. He shouldn’t have known anything but…but…

            But he’d believed for years that the man had been telling the truth.

            He believed that his brother had been a coward, weak-willed and afraid when he finally realized just what being a Death Eater meant. That he’d died for that, died for not being ‘enough’. Remus had made a comment about it taking two weeks for Regulus to die, but he hadn’t paid much attention to that at the time (then again, a minute later Remus’s hand was down his pants so…). But now he wonders. How many other ways had Regulus ‘died’? 

            “How you died was unknown, and I thought it a kindness to let people know you had died at least, and the ‘rumors’ were a fair assumption of how that happened,” Dumbledore claims and…and Sirius can tell he’s lying. At least in part, and he bets by the looks on Regulus and his friend’s face that they don’t believe Dumbledore either.

            “Bullshit,” the woman says bluntly. “You didn’t need to say shit for one. How many other people died under mysterious manners? And did you do the same thing for them? Make up rumors? Besides, half those rumors about how Regulus died aren’t exactly polite or sympathetic.”

            Certainly the ones _he_ knows aren’t.

            “So I’m going to repeat myself. Why did you spread false rumors about how I died?” Regulus demands, and by the anger and assurance in his brother’s voice Sirius knows he won’t let this go until he gets an answer. A real answer.

            “Or should we ask you under Veritaserum. Make sure you’re really telling us the truth, no evasive wording,” says the woman, voice far too idle to actually be idle. “After all, I’m not so sure you know how to give a straight truth.”

            “Tell them,” Sirius says quietly, fists clenching. “After all, _Professor_ , if you only had good intentions, why did you just lie to us?” He doesn’t think he’s ever supported his brother before, but he has to now. He has to know the truth too. 

            _Why won’t you free me? Why did you lie to me? Why? Why? Why, why, **why**?_

Dumbledore takes a deep breath, and Sirius feels his stomach drop. There’s something reluctant in the sigh, as if he truly doesn’t want to give the truth. As if he thinks he _deserves_ to keep why he did this hidden. Hidden from the man whose death he lied about to so many people. 

            “The Registry of Students at Hogwarts lasts the entirety student’s life, even if they are expelled or leave for some other reason. One day your name was suddenly struck out, and I knew you were dead. Minerva always brought deaths to my attention if they happened under suspicious circumstances, such as former student dying so young. I was aware of your joining of the Death Eaters; there was a ward around the school to check. And after I discovered that no Auror or Order of the Phoenix member killed you…”

            “You took fucking advantage to use me as a propaganda tool,” Regulus says coldly, interrupting Dumbledore, and Sirius knows without a doubt that it’s true.

            The son of a major pureblood family and a Death Eater ‘killed’ by Voldemort? Killed because he may have wanted to back out, or may have realized it was wrong? Depending on the story, tortured for weeks, or killed by supporters of the Dark Bastard. As well as whatever other rumors are floating around, stories Dumbledore released in an effort to ‘save’ purebloods and halfbloods that joined Voldemort, because if the heir of the Black family wasn’t safe, who was?

            “What the hell is wrong with you?” the woman snaps, eyes narrowing in fury. “You can’t _do_ something like that! For one thing, what would have happened if what you heard at first was wrong, that an Order of whatever the fuck you said member killed him, or an Auror did, and then that got out. For another, what gives you the goddamn right to lie about Regulus’s death? He didn’t serve you. He wasn’t loyal to you.” 

            “All I was, was determined to strip Voldemort of his immortality,” Regulus says quietly. “And instead, you, a man I barely then, and don’t now, respect, used my death under unknown conditions so you could manipulate people.”

            Regulus glares at Dumbledore. “You claim to be a Light Wizard, but your morals are almost as shit as some Dark I know.”

            “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but right now I think my little brother is right,” Sirius says, ignoring the angry whispers around him. “You did an incredibly fucked up thing. You used my brother and I’m betting you still don’t feel any shame about it. You wanted to keep on _lying_ about it, even when they demanded the truth from you.” Sirius glares at Dumbledore’s stiff back, and it’s only because he knows it would end badly he doesn’t try to hex the old man.

            “What the hell made you think you had the right to use my brother?”

* * *

                                  

            Regulus can feel the hands of the Inferi dragging him down, can all but feel the burning in his throat from the Drink of Despair even as water flooded his lungs. Can feel the despair warring with triumph as he sinks into the pitch black lake. He had done it, gotten the Horcrux and soon enough it would be destroyed. No one would ever know exactly what he’d done, but he didn’t care. Even thought it would be better that way, because there was no chance of Voldemort rescuing it.

            He just wanted the Horcrux destroyed. 

            Sirius’s support is a shock, but one he’s grateful of. Hopefully he can keep it. Maybe he can find something to offer his brother as a ‘thank you’, since he knows Sirius supporting him will make at least some of the Order members more willing to listen to him and Esther. 

             “What the hell made you think you had the right to use my brother?” 

            Regulus’s eyes go wide and he hears Esther’s quiet hiss of surprise. Huh. He really hadn’t expected Sirius to be so furious. Maybe a bit pissy, but the level of fury in his brother’s voice is a genuine surprise. It can’t just be because of what Dumbledore did. There has to be something else, but what could it be?

            “Necessity,” Dumbledore says surprisingly bluntly and actually seems to be telling the truth. Odd. “More and more students or recent graduates were taking the Dark Mark and joining Voldemort. I thought if they heard that Voldemort was so willing to kill someone who’d been a classmate or friend…”

            “Okay, seriously, that’s still stupid,” Esther says, cutting Dumbledore off again. “Regulus would have hardly been the first to have been killed on Voldemort’s orders. Hell, some of the rumors were he died because he betrayed the Death Eaters! How the hell would that discourage someone from joining? ‘A traitor died, oh well.’ Even their parents wouldn’t care too much, be too worried for them, because obviously they’ll have the sense not to do the same thing as Regulus _since they know what would happen_ ,” she hisses, sounding a bit like an angry cat. “If anything, you probably made things worse.” 

            “I’m curious, how many spies did you have within the Death Eaters?” Regulus asks, knowing it’ll derail the conversation, but he’s done with that for now. He’ll use it to ambush Dumbledore later. Besides, Esther has the glint in her eyes that normally leads to things being set on fire.

            “What?” Dumbledore asks, looking surprised at the sudden change in conversation and Sirius looking thoughtful.

            “I said, how many spies did you have in the Death Eaters?” he repeats, genuinely curious. “Did your abuse of my death help you get any, or cost you any?” Okay, he’s not quite ready to derail the conversation about using his death. Seriously, who the fuck does that?! “Or anything for that matter?”

            “Severus Snape spied for the Order,” Dumbledore says. “Amara Greengrass. Gregory Parkinson. Very few were willing to do so, and sadly most of those that did died.” 

            “Snape?” Regulus repeats, surprised. Severus Snape had been a member of the Inner Circle, completely devoted to Voldemort, rumored to have some sort of angry obsession with James Potter. “How did you pull that off? He was devoted enough to be in the Inner Circle. I saw him and Lucius go into meetings together.” Because he sincerely doubts it’s his death that did that. He barely even knew the man in Hogwarts, for all they were only a year apart.

            “There were…reasons relating to something he discovered that made him willing to come to me,” Dumbledore says evasively, and for Merlin’s sake, can’t the man speak straightly for once in his bloody life?!?! 

            “What could he have found out to betray the snake fucker?” Regulus asks, not able to think of anything. Snape had always been close to other future Death Eaters, though he still doesn’t know what family Snape was technically a member of. The Snape family was definitely not one of the Sacred 28, and rumor had placed Snape as a half-blood. “What, Voldemort kill his entire family for some reason?”

            “You keep calling him Voldemort,” the pink haired girl who looks oddly like Andromeda interrupts, looking at him curiously. “But you’re a Death Eater?” 

            “I haven’t been a Death Eater in almost fifteen years, and I died betraying him,” Regulus says, voice as dry as his throat had felt after drinking despair. “Why the hell would I call him something like the Dark Lord, and I definitely don’t fear him enough to call him You-Know-Who.”

            That earned him a few glares and makes him rolls his eyes again at them and wow, they really are getting sore from how often he’s doing that. What? They’re a bloody resistance group against Voldemort, aren’t they? So why wouldn’t they use his name? It made him pissy enough after all when Light wizards and witches were confident enough to do so rather than call him ‘You-Know-Who’. Hopefully he can convince a few others to call him ‘the snake fucker’ too.

            The girl nods thoughtfully, and he has to ask.

            “Who are you exactly? You look a bit like my cousins,” he says, giving in to his curiosity. “A lot like Andromeda in fact.”

            “I’ll tell you if she,” the girl gestures at Esther, “tells us her name.” 

            “Clever,” Esther murmurs softly enough that only he can hear. “I’ll give you my name, and you’ll give yours and who exactly you are.”

            “Deal,” the girl nods, smiling faintly.

            “Esther Malka,” Esther says, and yeah, that was the name she was using the last time she was England. “Formerly a student of Yeshiva Meor and presently a scholar in residence there.”

            “Nymphadora Tonks, and my Mum is your cousin Andromeda,” she explains.

            “That’s right, she did get disowned for marrying a Muggle, didn’t she…” Regulus says, realizing he’d never bothered to find out the man’s name.

            “Oh you poor girl, they named you _Nymphadora_ ,” Esther says, covering a smile.

            “I normally go by Tonks,” she says a bit wryly.

            “Smart.”

            Esther’s giving Tonks a thoughtful look, the type that she gives people who interest her. He’d had it directed him enough to know it. By the way Dumbledore’s eyes are narrowing at Esther he’s probably guessing what that expression means. His eyes hadn’t been twinkling in a very long time.

            “Back to the matter at hand,” Regulus drawls, resting his cheek on his hand. “How the hell did you get Snape to betray the snake fucker? What could he have found out?”

            “That Voldemort was targeting the Potters,” Sirius says, giving him a slight nod. “Lily once mentioned that she knew Snape back when they were little kids, and they’d been friends up till Hogwarts. Of course he couldn’t stay her friend, not with them being in opposing Houses.”

            “And that was enough to get Snape to betray Voldemort?” Regulus asks, completely surprised.

            “An old friendship was enough?” Esther asks, a bit skeptical. “ _Just_ friendship?”

            “He owed James a life debt,” Sirius offers up, and wow, he’s really getting glared at for being a good big brother. “So those two things were probably enough.”

            “Maybe,” Esther says, frowning and crossing arms. She tilts her head slightly in thought. “Question; did Snape ever have a thing for Lily by any chance?” 

            “Yes,” Sirius admits and huh, that could imply a lot of things.

* * *

 

 

            Esther’s frown deepens at Sirius’s response. A childhood crush, a broken friendship and a life debt? That almost would be enough but…She’s a three-thousand-year old immortal. She’s seen how obsessions can form. If Severus Snape was a high ranking Death Eater, trusted enough to be in the Inner Circle, would have been seen firmly as a pure-blood supporter…Obsession with Lily or James Potter (more likely Lily) would be a probability, not just a possibility if he was willing to go so far as to spy for Dumbledore and…

            “When did he start spying for the Light?” she asks, studying Dumbledore. Without a doubt Snape would have gone to him, whose been the leader of the Light side in the UK for years.

            “Is that relevant?” Dumbledore asks, raising a brow at her, and congratulations on making her more suspicious. 

            “At the moment, very,” Regulus drawls, giving Dumbledore a flat look. “Since every time you’ve tried to evade a question it turns out to be at least somewhat useful information.”

            “And you’ve never told us exactly when,” Lupin adds in quietly, now standing next to Sirius, holding his hand. “Just that it involved Lily and James. Hell, you’ve never told us exactly what that thing involving Lily and James was.”

            “Tell us,” Molly Weasley says, and there’s a cold light to her eyes that Esther suspects is rarely there.

            Dumbledore sighs and seems suddenly, surprising old. Like his age is finally weighing down on his shoulders. Interestingly it’s not a false feeling. Whatever he’s about to say actually hurts him. 

            “A little less than a year before Harry was born, I interviewed Sybill Trelawney for the position of Divination professor. She was the great-great granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, one of the most celebrated Seers in history, which was the only reason I did so. By the end of the interview I had decided against hiring her, because she demonstrated none of her famed ancestress’s skill.

            “Then she did the unexpected, and gave a true prophesy, one explaining how the Dark Lord could be destroyed. At that moment I decided to hire her, because I knew if the prophesy got out, she would be in danger due to giving it, and of course a Death Eater overheard her giving it, at least in part.” 

            “It was Snape, wasn’t it?” Regulus says, voice cold. “He overheard it, told Voldemort like the loyal minion he was, and only regretted it when he discovered it somehow involved Lily Potter.”

            _Unlike me, who when I discovered a method of destroying Voldemort did it, rather than tried to stop it._ The words are silent, but Esther can still hear them and agree with them.

            “You had the Longbottoms and the Potters go into hiding at the same time,” Sirius says slowly. “Both of whom had sons at the same time. Both of whom Voldemort seemed to be searching for, but only one of which was betrayed in the end, even if it did end in Voldemort’s destruction.” He takes a shuddering breath, and Esther can’t help but pity him. “Why?” 

            “What Sybill told me was that the person capable of destroying Voldemort was going to be born toward the end of July, to parents who had trice defied him. The Longbottoms and Potters both fulfilled those requirements, so I told them to hide. If they were found, they would die. Both of them knew exactly what was in the prophesy, including the fact that Voldemort would somehow mark his future rival. 

            “When Severus learned that one of the families that Voldemort was the Potters, he decided to come to me and confess what he had done, and offered to spy for me. He was terrified at the thought of Lily dying, since they had been so close as children. I had hoped that with the information he would give me that the Potters and Longbottoms could both stay safe, but that failed. I failed.” He truly looks sad, and for once she feels no lie in his words, but knows he’s still avoiding saying something or more likely several somethings.

            “So the events of Halloween 1981 came to pass, Voldemort was seemingly defeated, the Wizarding World celebrated and I offered Severus a position as a professor at Hogwarts.”

            _What?_

            “What?” she asks, this time out loud. “You offered a man you knew to be a Death Eater, a man who only turned to the Light because he didn’t want his childhood friend to die, and I know you’re hiding something relating to _that_ ,” she adds, wanting to make it clear she still doesn’t trust him, “a position where he’d be in charge of children?” 

            “The only reason I can think of you doing that is so that you could keep a close eye on Snape, because as I recall he hated children and teaching,” Regulus says, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his cheek. “Or since I highly doubt you believed Voldemort to be completely destroyed, to put him in a position that if Voldemort did return, he could funnel you information from the Inner Circle, and he could funnel approved of information back.” Regulus smiles faintly, and it’s about as nice as one of her own.

            “Correct, Professor?”

* * *

 

        “There were other reasons beyond that,” Dumbledore says, and Sirius wants nothing more than to hit the man, and its only Remus’s hand holding his that prevents him from doing something stupid.

            Snape had told Voldemort a prophesy that got Lily and James killed. Snape had as good as been the spell that murdered his best friend, a brother in all but blood, and his wife. Snape. Snape _. Snape._ Snape had caused so many awful things to happen to all of them. If he’d said nothing to Voldemort, had turned out to be a good man, then Lily and James would still be alive. He’d never have spent over a decade in Azkaban. 

            Regulus catches his eye, and tilts his head just slightly, and Sirius has to bite back a smirk as pleasant as the smile on his brother’s face. Oh, this could be interesting…

            “Something makes me suspect those reasons are shit, but oh well, we have other things to deal with,” Regulus says. “Such as the fact you’re all in my bloody house.”

            “It’s also Sirius’s house,” Dumbledore blusters, and it has to be hurting Regulus with how many times he’s rolled his eyes. 

            “I got disowned at sixteen. Regulus is right, it is a miracle the wards didn’t explode when I forced my way in a few months ago,” Sirius says, idly rubbing his thumb against the top of Remus’s hand. “Huh. Now that I think about it, you were the one who insisted on me doing it Professor, rather than unweaving the wards yourself, or forcing your way through.” 

            “Which makes me even less impressed with you than usual Professor,” Regulus adds. “Sending a loyal Order member to possibly die because you wanted to use their childhood home as a base.” 

            “And then forcing me to stay in a home I’ve been pretty open about despising,” Sirius says, ignoring Remus tightening his hold on his hand in an effort to get him to quiet. “Buckbeak and I were doing perfectly fine traveling. But because you were hoping to use 12 Grimmauld Place as a headquarters I had to come back here, risk my life to break through the wards, and am now stuck living here. I can’t go outside because if I’m recognized I’ll be arrested. I can’t do a bloody thing, you won’t let me write to Harry, all I can do is clean this bloody house and get screamed at by a portrait of my mother.” 

            “Wait, they aren’t letting you write letters to Harry? I’m presuming Harry Potter?” Esther asks, as if for clarification, but something tells Sirius that she already knows the answer. “Why?”

            “Possibility of interception,” Dumbledore explains. “More people than ever are watching Harry, and it’s a very real possibility, especially with Voldemort’s return.”

            “If you’re so worried about him, why isn’t he here then?” Regulus asks, frowning slightly again. “I imagine there’s a Fidelius Charm over the house? Which I only got through because I hold rightful ownership of 12 Grimmauld Place? Why not bring him here then, it has to be safer than wherever else you have him hiding.” 

            “He does have a point Albus,” Molly interrupts, and that’s not as surprising as it could be. She does hate the Dursleys after all, knows that they’re Muggles of the worst sort. “Harry has been there a month, surely that’s enough to trigger the blood ward protections?”

            “Technically it would be long enough if he’d been there only for a day. He just needs to return there and still consider it ‘home’,” Sirius adds, having successfully badgered the existence of the blood wards out of Dumbledore a year earlier. 

            He really, really does not want to leave Harry there any longer than he has to. Harry’d mentioned in past letters how miserable he is living here. _It must be even worse this summer with no one writing to him_ , Sirius thinks, feeling a pang of regret at that, at listening to Dumbledore’s order.

            “So if the wards been triggered and technically he’s good for the next year or so, get him here to people who actually like him,” Sirius demands, and he watches both Regulus and Esther’s eyes go frigid.

            “Sirius, please tell me you aren’t implying that your godson is living with people who hate him?” Regulus asks, voice icy and temper barely controlled. Oh yes, his brother had never liked abusive parents, had he? In hindsight, Sirius thinks he knows why…

            “No, he is,” Sirius says bluntly, watching Esther’s knuckles go white as she clutches the arms of her chair.

            “And you want him to stay there longer?” Esther asks Dumbledore incredulously. “When he doesn’t have to? _What. Is. Wrong. With. **You**_ ,” she hisses, sounding more like a cat than an angry human.

            “I’ll make you a deal, or at least the first half of one,” Regulus says. “I’ll allow 12 Grimmauld Place to be used as a base, even help deal with the Dark objects I know my family left behind, in exchange for Harry Potter being brought here within the next 48 hours, and for the remainder of his time at Hogwarts only having to stay just as long as necessary to trigger the blood wards, though I do have one remaining requirement.” 

            “It’s a good offer Professor,” Sirius adds, knowing his support will help. “Regulus will keep his word.” 

            “What is the other half of your requirement, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore asks, and even Sirius is wondering that a bit. Maybe for him to stop using his death as a propaganda tool? 

            “Simple, and it’s really something you should have done already,” Regulus smiles again. 

            “Get Sirius a proper trial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts?


	3. A New Arrival at Grimmauld Place

           “Harry may seem a bit…distracted,” Sirius warns, walking with Regulus and Esther to Regulus’s old room. Kreacher was going to bring her a cot to sleep on, neither feeling comfortable in separate rooms. If it wasn’t for the fact his brother was gay, he’d wonder more about that. “This…not sending him letters probably the worst thing that we could have done right now,” Sirius admits. 

            “What do you mean by that?” Regulus asks, confused. 

            Esther hisses softly, and Sirius knows she must already know about what happened at the Triwizard Tournament. It had occurred to him while Regulus and she had been speaking that his brother seemed awfully informed for someone newly resurrected, but she had likely filled him in. What she knew, exactly, was still something he wasn’t sure of, but how the tournament ended had been all over the papers.

            “Harry witnessed a classmate die in front of him during Voldemort’s resurrection,” Sirius says bluntly. “Cedric Diggory. Peter killed him, based on what Harry told Dumbledore, and then Harry was forced to watch and be used in Voldemort’s resurrection.”

            “And now, for almost a month, none of you have written or spoken with him,” Esther says, eyeing him slightly. “Interesting that Dumbledore wouldn’t allow you lot to send him letters, or do something to try and help him handle watching someone die directly in front of him, followed by his worst enemy being resurrected. Interesting that he’s been all but preventing the flow of information to Harry, instead making him stew in his own thoughts.”

            Sirius knows what she’s implying. What Regulus is agreeing with a nod and a thoughtful expression. He takes a shuddering breath, and finally thinks about it.

            Thinks about how much easier it is to manipulate an abused child. How that child will cling to the first bits of kindness he’s shown, no matter how small. How willing they’d be to listen to what seems like the first figure of authority who’s willing to listen to _them_. He knows every year so far Harry’s had a brush with death, and then the better part of the summer to stew over it at the Dursley’s. That every time he’s come close to something good, to something happy, to something to take him away from there, it’s slipped from his grasp at the last second.

            Dumbledore had known for over a year that he is innocent. He’s known that Sirius wants to take Harry in, to give him a happier childhood. He’s known for over a year, or maybe closer to three, when Harry met the Weasley’s for the first time, that if Harry had anything like that, he’d be so much harder to control. So much more likely to fight to live.

            After all, he has to be willing to die to face Voldemort, and how can someone with something to live for do that?            

            “I’ll go send an owl to Harry to let him know we’re going to pick him up in two days. We need to properly clean out a room for him,” Sirius says, deciding to hold his thoughts to his chest for now. Even so, he suspects the duo already has an idea of what just kept him silent. “We’ve mostly been focusing on the main rooms in the house, since almost everyone else has somewhere else to live.” His bedroom was the closest one to be livable, but since Kreacher vanished while they were all still speaking, he imagines Regulus’s would be fine too. Same with Esther’s cot. 

            “Hmmm,” Esther hums, eyes lidding slightly. “And yet no one offered you a place to sleep? Even though it should be relatively simple to Fidelius Charm a room, bind it to themselves and at least give you some time away from here. I grow less and less impressed by the minute with your friends.”

            “Arthur’s a Ministry employee. So are Tonks and Shacklebolt. They can’t risk a coworker dropping in and noting a room suddenly missing,” Sirius points out. “Remus rarely has stable housing due to being a werewolf. Most of the other members of the Order are…uncomfortable around me after what happened, and I’m not terribly fond of them either.”

            “Still,” she frowns, and Sirius can’t help but feel a bit of surprise.

 _Why do you care so much?_ he wonders. _Hell, why do you care at all? Because I’m Regulus’s brother? Or something else?_

_What are you planning?_

* * *

 

Harry wakes up to an owl sitting on his desk, a letter tied to its leg. It’s not an owl he recognizes, not Pidge or Errol, and Sirius normally sent him letters by an assortment of birds. He doesn’t have much hope it’s from his godfather though, not with how everyone seems to be ignoring him.

            _Or it is_ , Harry thinks, recognizing Sirius’s familiar handwriting, but a bit surprised at the heavy weight of the paper. It’s nicer than the stuff he normally uses, almost like the paper Hogwarts sends its letters on.

            _Dear Harry,_

_Sorry I haven’t written earlier, there’s been a bit of a…mess going on, to say the least. I’m back in London now, at my childhood home, and I’ve been busy trying to clean it up. Didn’t expect it to be as bad as it is, but I probably should have._

_I and some of the others got Dumbledore to agree that for the rest of the summer you’ll be coming here. Arthur, Remus and Tonks, who’s a cousin of mine, will come and pick you up tomorrow at noon, so make sure you pack up today._

_I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to write, and I hope you can forgive me for that, but I think you’ll enjoy the rest of the summer here. You’ll definitely be meeting some interesting people._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

_PS Remus says ‘hi’ and that he’s looking forward to seeing you tomorrow_

            Harry grins, and it feels like the first time he’s smiled all summer, because he’s going to get out of here. It’s barely the end of June, and he’s going to get out of here! Normally if he’s lucky he’s gone by early August, but this summer he’s getting out of here early! 

            It almost doesn’t matter that Sirius hasn’t written before, that no one else has written to him. He’ll see them when he gets to Sirius’s, he just knows it.

* * *

 

 

            As fascinated as he always is by Muggle towns, Little Whinging and Privet Drive had never felt right to him. Too disconcertingly perfect, and it’s the type of perfect that is always hiding something, like a family that barely treats their nephew like a human being. The one and only time he’d had to threaten the Dursleys was a much more satisfying moment than he’ll ever be comfortable in admitting. Not as a supporter of Muggles and Muggleborns. 

            “Bit creepy,” Tonks comments, glancing over at him. Remus nods in silent agreement, and is frowning. Out of all of them he’s actually dealt with the Dursleys, or at least Petunia, the most. “Too orderly.” 

            “The Dursleys don’t want anyone to know they’re anything but perfectly normal,” Arthur says, walking up the path to the house. Esther Malka had bullied him into different clothes than he’d normally wear to pick up Harry, telling to him bluntly that what he wore made him stick out and could endanger Harry if there were any watchers. She’d said the same to Remus and transfigured them both different outfits, but left Tonks alone besides telling her to change her hair to a natural color.

            It was only after they left 12 Grimmauld Place that it had occurred to Arthur that he’d let a woman he barely knew bully him into doing something. However, she had only been bullying him into doing something to protect Harry. He’d been surprised by how infuriated she’d been to discover Harry’s living situation, but then again, Regulus had been just as furious. For a duo who didn’t know Harry at all, it’s rather heartwarming.

            So lost in his thoughts that it takes Tonks tripping over a potted plant and him grabbing her arm to realize they were in front of the door. Remus presses the doorbell, and Arthur has to smile at Harry’s eager face as he opens the door. At the same time though, he can’t help but feel a twinge of fury, knowing that with how eager Harry looked that it was due to dealing with the Dursleys. 

            “You got your trunk packed?” Tonks asks, grinning at Harry. He’s giving her a curious look, but then again, he’s never met her before. “Oh! I’m Tonks! I’m one of Sirius’s cousins,” she explains, spotting Harry’s expression.

            “Sirius has cousins?” Harry says, a bit blankly. “Huh.” 

            “Hello Harry,” Remus smiles, dropping a hand onto Harry’s head. He’s still on the shorter side, and Arthur suspects that will never change. “Sorry about not writing but…well, we’ll explain when we get to Sirius’s house.”

            “Where are your Aunt and Uncle?” Arthur asks, realizing he can’t hear anyone else in the house. “Or your cousin?”

            “Went out for the day,” Harry says with a shrug. “I told them you were coming and they decided they didn’t want to be around for that.”

            Tonks scowls at that, and Remus’s frown isn’t much better. Harry is almost fifteen, but still…Arthur doubts they said goodbye, or even really cared that Harry was leaving. No. He suspects they’re just as happy as Harry that Harry’s going somewhere else for the rest of the summer.

            “Well, let’s get moving,” Arthur says, forcing a jovial smile to his face. No need to let Harry know how annoyed he is with the Dursley’s. “No need to stay here. Back to 12 Grimmauld Place.”

            Hopefully they can figure out how to make it so Harry doesn’t have to come back.

* * *

          “So…why were you so insistent that Esther and I not go to pick up Harry?” Regulus asks, flicking through one of his books and trying to figure out the best way to take their Mother’s portrait down. He could do without the shrieking. “Neither of us planned to.”

            “Eh, better safe than sorry,” Sirius says, and it’s a voice way too casual, the tone Regulus knows means something’s up.

            “What do you mean by that?” Esther asks, a basket on her lap that she’s busily digging through. He thinks he knows what’s in there.

            “Well, the fewer people that go, the less chance of danger. And it’s less eye catching,” Sirius explains, and it’s only a half-assed explanation at best. 

            “You sent two men who can barely pass as Muggles, hell, one who definitely can’t, and a woman who until I pointed it out intended to go to suburban England with neon pink hair,” Esther says dryly, giving Sirius flat look. “If I hadn’t bullied Weasley and Lupin into different clothes, we’d be having trouble. Who told Weasley that he should wear paisley anyway?”

            “Esther, in contrast to Israel or the Enclaves, most of Wizarding England, especially the purebloods, have no goddamn clue how to pass as Muggles,” Regulus reminds her. He’s not sure if she genuinely forgot or had just been that appalled by the paisley. Possibly both. “Remus more likely just didn’t have clothes. And Tonks would have fit in fine in most of London.” 

            “Hence why I specified _suburban_ England,” she sniffs, giving Regulus a snooty look. “You know damn well how different urban and suburban things are. Look at the difference in your houses.”

            “Black Manor is about as decaying and decrepit as 12 Grimmauld Place,” Regulus says, watching Sirius out of the corner of his eye. His older brother is relaxing and that’s very good for them. “Hell, I think it would be better just to tear that one down and do a burn and build.”

            “Can I set it on fire?”

            “You always want to set shit on fire Esther. And no, Sirius and I should do it.”

            “What?” Sirius asks a bit hopefully.

            “I think we should burn down the manor and bring in someone to build a better one,” Regulus explains. “Hell, we could let your godson help. Probably would be a good relaxer after the hell of his school year and dealing with his family.”

            “Yeah,” Sirius agrees, grinning. “And Harry would definitely enjoy that. Especially after the school year and having to go to the Dursleys.” 

            “What is so bad about them?” Esther asks, finally pulling out the sand cat she’d been searching for in the basket.

            “Did you just pull a cat out of a basket?”

            “Obviously. This is Chana, and she is perfect.” 

            “Your cat thing is weird Esther,” Regulus informs her, watching her kiss the top of her sand cat’s head. “But then again, it’s about as weird as how cagey Sirius is being about the Dursleys.” 

            “It’s just…” Sirius trails off, not sure how to describe the situation.

            “Based on what you described earlier, he’s in an abusive situation,” Regulus says, watching his brother’s face closely. “An abusive situation it almost sounded like Dumbledore didn’t want to take him out of. But I’m a bit surprised; why are they treating their own nephew like that anyway? Since you did mention that Petunia Dursley is Lily Potter’s sister.”

            “According to Lily, Petunia was jealous of her magic, at least when they were younger. Snape is somehow involved there too, but no clue how exactly, she never would say. What I think happened is, as they got older, Petunia got more resentful. Lily was the prettier of the two, the smarter, the favorite,” Sirius explains. “Hell, I think even in terms of future husbands, their parents favored James over Vernon Dursley, Petunia’s husband.” 

            “Oh this is a familiar sounding tale,” Esther murmurs, almost too low for Regulus to hear. 

            “And I don’t think Petunia ever got over or forgot that,” Sirius says, oblivious to Esther’s murmur. Then again, she had practically murmured it into her cat’s head so. Easy to miss. “As a result of everything Lily was, she wanted to be the exact opposite.”

            “So an unpleasant bitch to her nephew?” Regulus snarks. Ahah! He _knew_ this book would have the right spell…

            “I have never seen something so terrifying bland and Muggle in my life until I visited Little Whinging for the first time to check in on Harry,” Sirius says bluntly. “Everything was in perfect little rows, nothing out of place, nothing of interest. The Dursleys were almost as painful in how much they tried to be ‘normal’, to pretend they had no connection to magic.” 

            “Harry suffered for that, didn’t he?” Regulus says quietly, marking the page were the spell is, and putting it down. “And he wouldn’t have had to suffer…”

            “If not for those damn blood wards,” Sirius says, glaring at nothing. 

            “Which, I still don’t get,” Esther says, Chana curled up on her lap and purring as she pets her. “Yes, blood wards are certainly powerful, but if you really wanted him as protected as possible, why not take Harry Potter to Hogwarts and raise him there? Aren’t the wards supposed to be the strongest in Europe? And some of the strongest in the world?” she asks, glancing over at Regulus. 

            That is…actually a really good point. 

            “Yes,” Regulus says, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Like, I do know of stronger, but none of them are in Europe, and most of them fall in the category of ‘ancient and constantly strengthened’. But yeah, even a blood ward isn’t that good of an excuse, not when you have the option of keeping the kid at Hogwarts.” 

            “Let’s get off of that for now,” Esther says. “I’m still a bit curious about the Dursleys, because it sounds like they’re the worst sort of Muggles, and I’m sorry, I still have a vague enough amount of respect to assume Dumbledore can’t actually be that dumb.”

            “No, no, they are,” Sirius says, nose wrinkling. “Like, a good example of why some pureblood prejudice is understandable type of Muggles.” 

            “What the hell,” Regulus says flatly.

            “ ** _What_**?" 

            “Oh hell,” Sirius mutters, and Regulus does have to wonder what type of expressions are on his and Esther’s faces right now.

            He suspects, the type that make it rather obvious they want to make a… _visit_ to 4 Privet Drive.

            “Bloody fucking hell.”

* * *

 

            “Where’s the house?” Harry asks, seeing only an 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place.

            “Fidelius Charm,” Remus explains. “We don’t want anyone finding it, like supporters of Voldemort since some know about the house. But with the charm up, that’s not an issue. Instead, the Order can use it and not have to worry about that at _least_. Not like certain, very surprising things that have popped up over the past few days.” 

            “12 Grimmauld Place is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” Mr. Weasley whispers into Harry’s ear (what the _hell_ is that?), and now he can see what he couldn’t before.

            It’s a decrepit house, which surprises Harry a bit, and there is an almost an unpleasant sense to it. Like a rot that he can’t even see, but how could a house like that be connected to Sirius? He can’t see his godfather growing up in a place like this, but didn’t he run away from home to live with his Dad and grandparents when he was sixteen? So maybe it does make sense, the weird feeling at least, though not why it looks so bad. 

            “What’s been going on?” he asks as Tonks uses a charm to float his trunk and Hedwig up the stairs.

            Remus sighs. “I’ll explain when we get inside, but needless to say it’s been strange, even by the standards of the Wizarding World.”

            “That’s not reassuring.”

            “It really wasn’t intended to be,” Remus admits. “More of a warning.”

            _That is even more ominous_ , Harry thinks, but doesn’t bother saying it. He knows Remus knows that.

            “Oi, anyone around?” Tonks calls, placing the trunk down.

            “Yeah. We’re upstairs,” an unfamiliar man’s voice shouts back, and there’s a thread of…anger? there. 

            Sirius is the first to walk down, followed by a man and a woman, likely the man who shouted down. The man looks oddly like Sirius, but less handsome, and hair a touch paler. The woman is tall, almost as tall as Sirius and the other man. Her hair is black and pulled back, and she’s dressed in surprisingly Muggle clothes. So is Sirius’s lookalike for that matter.

            “Hey Harry,” Sirius smiles, coming over and hugging him. He can’t help but curl into his godfather’s warmth, already missing getting affectionate gestures after only a month with the Dursleys. “So…I’ve got a couple of people you need to meet.”

            “Hello, I’m Esther Malka,” the woman says with a warm smile. Harry notices her eyes are as dark as her hair now that she’s closer. 

            “And I’m Regulus Black, the recently resurrected younger brother of Sirius,” the man says, a bit wryly, but smile just as warm as Esther’s.

            _Wait. What?_

* * *

 

 

Sirius has to bite back a sigh at how Regulus had introduced himself and at Harry’s sudden stiffening in his hug. _Really Reggie, really_? he asks silently, but knows at the same time he should have expected it. 

            His brother had been making jokes about his resurrected status. Apparently he finds it hilarious but…

            “You got resurrected?” Harry demands, and maybe, _just maybe_ , his brother could have not said that to the kid who just witnessed his worst enemy get resurrected.

            “Yup,” Regulus says, popping the ‘p’. “Got killed trying to destroy something called a Horcrux which is how Voldemort is ‘immortal’.”

            “And I resurrected him about…two days ago now?” Esther says, leaning against Regulus. “Figured it would be a good idea, since he’s technically the foremost expert on Voldemort’s Horcruxes.”

            “I want to disagree with that but you’re technically not wrong,” Regulus informs her.

            “Errr,” Harry looks torn, obviously having a lot of questions. “You don’t look like Voldemort looked like when he got resurrected,” Harry finally goes with, wiggling slightly in a manner that Sirius knows he wants out of the hug. 

            “Vastly different methods,” Esther says, tapping a finger against her lips. “For one, Regulus wasn’t a lich clutching to the vaguest possibility of life. For another, what was resurrected was more a shattered bit of soul than a full soul. Also, based on what was described to me as what you witnessed, they used a truly _shit_ spell for the resurrection.”

            “Can we have this conversation somewhere other than the hallway?” Tonks finally asks, reminding Sirius that his boyfriend, old friend, and cousin are still there. “Like, drop Harry’s things off and chat in the kitchen? I’m hungry at least.”

            “Agreed,” Sirius says readily, flicking his wand and floating the trunk just as Tonks knocks over the umbrella stand again and wakes up his Mother’s portrait. Again. 

            “Bloody hell,” Regulus hisses. “I’m dealing with that _now_.”

            “Extraction spell and then Fiendfyer?” Esther asks, following Regulus as he heads over to the portrait. 

            “Why is your default reaction to dealing with things Fiendfyre?” 

            “Because it’s fun.” 

            “You’re insane.”

            “Don’t act like you didn’t already know what.” 

            “…Shut up and just help me with the bloody portrait.” 

            “Your brother and his friend are strange,” Harry says, following Sirius up the stairs. 

            “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Sirius sighs. “He’s really not like how I remember him at all from our childhood. Hell, he joined the Death Eaters and ended up so revolted by something they did that he betrayed them. Based on some of the stuff he’s said, I think he regrets everything he did then.”

            “They’re Death Eaters?” Harry asks, horrified as he follows Sirius into the room they’d set up for him. Kreacher had been surprisingly helpful, but then again, maybe it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise since Regulus had been the one to ask for help. Bloody thing is completely devoted to his brother.

            “Reggie was, and Ester wasn’t and isn’t,” Sirius corrects. “While she did befriend Regulus back when he was, she doesn’t give a damn about pureblood supremacy. I’m not even sure she _is_ a pureblood for that matter. Here’s your room.”

            It had been one of the guest bedrooms back when he’d been a kid. Esther had slipped out and somehow gotten them a new bed for it, from some Muggle place called Ikea. They had scrubbed the room down and yanked down the old wallpaper, replacing it with warm red painted walls and gold-color trim (“Yes Regulus we do need to do it in House colors shut up”). They’d found a desk down in what Sirius vaguely remembers being his Father’s office, and had spent almost more time removing all the doxies and weird curses on the desk than anything else. 

            “So, this is your room for any time you’re here,” Sirius says, putting the chest down and floating Hedwig’s cage onto a table by the window. 

            “This is mine?” Harry asks, looking around in genuine surprise, and Sirius is very grateful that his brother and Esther are downstairs. As is, it had taken him almost the entire time Arthur, Remus and Tonks were gone to calm them down. He suspects Harry’s joy at something as simple as a room would trigger their tempers again.

            “Yes. We’re setting up a few other rooms as guest bedrooms, and Regulus and Esther are sharing his old room, but this is your room,” Sirius explains.

            “Why are they sharing a room?” Harry asks.

            “Comfort reasons I think,” Sirius explains. “Neither of them really trust the Order either, but I think a lot of it is comfort reasons. Regulus did…not die in a pleasant manner,” Sirius says, not sure how to describe how Regulus died. Or at least, not in a manner that wouldn’t end with Harry traumatized. “So I think Esther is sleeping there so someone he trusts and knows what he went through is there. And if that doesn’t work, Kreacher can always get called in.”         

            “Who’s Kreacher?” Harry asks, following Sirius as he leaves the bedroom. Tonks isn’t the only one hungry. 

            “House elf. He’s served my family for almost…six hundred years? Give or take? But he’s incredibly loyal to Regulus, much more than to me, and he…he had to watch Regulus die,” Sirius says softly, and hadn’t that been a horrifying thing to find out? As much as he doesn’t like Kreacher, that’s not something he’d wish on anyone, watching someone they cared for die via drowning and Inferi. “He couldn’t do anything, but he also refused to leave until Regulus ordered him away. Regulus had hoped Kreacher could destroy the Horcrux they were stealing, but he never could.”

            “So, what happened to it then?” Harry asks, just as they reached the kitchen.

            “We still have it,” Regulus answers, making Harry jump slightly. His brother and Esther are behind them, a hint of smoke surrounding them. “Let’s sit down, and we can explain a bit more.”

* * *

 

            “Horcrux are incredibly difficult to destroy,” Esther explains. “There are only three methods I can remember; a goblin silver sword, Fiendfyer, and basilisk venom. The soul fragment needs to be utterly destroyed, and those three will do it.”

            “Fiendfyer, like the stuff you suggested burning a painting with?” Harry asks, remembering Esther’s comment from ten minutes earlier. 

            “Yes,” Esther says, smiling at Kreacher as he hands her a cup of tea. “Thank you Kreacher. It’s incredibly destructive, and I’ve seen some writings in fact compare it to hellfire. Basilisk venom is all but unsurvivable, and goblin forged weapons are a bitch in magic terms to deal with injuries, let alone lethal blows.” 

            “Besides, if I’m right about how many Horcruxs the snake fucker made, his soul should be relatively fragile and easier to destroy anyway,” Regulus says, stirring a bowl of soup that’s in front of him. 

            “Fragmenting your soul is a shit thing to do,” Esther agrees. “Didn’t you say your mum, even though she was a Dark Witch, thought Horcruxs were going too far?” 

            “Wait, what? Your mum was a Dark Witch?” Harry demands, incredulous. Sirius had never mentioned anything about that. Then again, he’d never mentioned having a Death Eater brother…

            “The Blacks as a whole were pretty well known for being a Dark family,” Regulus says, seemingly unaware of how much he’s shaking up Harry’s world. “Sirius was the ‘black sheep’ so to say, by being in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin, being a Light Wizard instead of a Dark, and being a member of the Order of the Phoenix rather than a Death Eater. Reason he got disowned.”

            “Mum didn’t know I was a member of the Order,” Sirius points out. “Just everything else.” 

            “Actually, she figured it out pretty quickly,” Regulus says, shaking his head. “It kind of was obvious Sirius. You were so anti everything Dark, that it would make sense that you’d jump to join the Order.”

            “What is the Order of the Phoenix, you all keep mentioning it?” Harry interrupts, frustrated by all the things they’re mentioning but not explaining, as if he’d know what they were talking about.

            “It was a resistance group Dumbledore founded during the first Voldemort War,” Sirius explains. “Think of it as the opposite of what the Death Eaters were. Your parents and I were all members, same as Remus, the Weasleys, and a number of Professors. Peter was also a member, but obviously he was betraying us. The Order dissolved at the end of the War, but has now been completely restarted as a result of Voldemort’s resurrection, but a minor form was starting up again after the events of your First Year.”

            “Huh,” Harry says, chewing on his lower lip to avoid saying anything else, like _why didn’t any of you tell me about this sooner?_ Because he’s not that oblivious, or at least Hermione isn’t. She mentioned off-handledly before they headed home for the summer that something strange was going on with the Professors. That they always seemed to be hiding _something_ from them. 

            “Wait, why are you just telling the kid this now?” Esther asks, giving Sirius a curious look. “Shouldn’t you guys have told him this years ago when telling him stories about his parents? Or explaining how you guys fought back against the snake fucker?” 

            “Honestly, I had assumed Dumbledore or the Weasleys had something,” Sirius explains with a shrug. “Which is why I never brought it up before. I had assumed someone had already told him.”

            “You know there’s a Muggle expression about that? ‘Assuming makes an ass out of you and me,’” Esther says, smirking into her tea and giving Harry a wink. 

            “That’s a Wizard expression too Esther,” Regulus says dryly. “And you know it. But it is an accurate one in this case anyway.” 

            “You call Voldemort ‘the snake fucker’?” Harry asks, eyes wide.

             “Yup,” Regulus says, popping the ‘p’ like he did earlier. “And I mean it both ways. 

            _Both ways…?_ Harry chokes on a laugh when he realizes just what Regulus meant. 

            “I am never going to get that image out of my head, thank you so fucking much Reggie,” Sirius says, glaring slightly at Regulus who just smirks back.

            “What? Voldie probably does, based on how obsessed he is with snakes,” Esther points out.

            “I was always surprised he didn’t have a snake familiar. He’s about as obsessed with snakes as you are with cats after all,” says Regulus, dodging Esther’s smack to the back of his head with the ease of practice.

            “I will have Chana sleep on your face,” she swears, glaring.

            “Do not attempt to smother me via sand cat again,” Regulus orders, glaring at her. 

Harry snickers.

            “How many times has she attempted to smother you via sand cat?” Sirius asks, looking just as amused as Harry is.

            “Even one time is one time too many,” Regulus says, turning his glare on Sirius. “Seriously. Chana’s heavy for one. For another, I like to breathe.” 

            “Errr…am I interrupting?” Mr. Weasley says, making Harry jump. He hadn’t noticed the man’s reappearance. “I have a question for all of you?” 

            He smiles at Harry, and it’s a familiar expression.

            “How about Ron and Hermione coming for a visit in a week?”


	4. July Time

           Not being allowed to write to Harry for over a month had possibly been one of the most infuriating things she’d been told since started Hogwarts. But now, all of the sudden she could, and Hermione can’t help but feel suspicious of that. What had happened? Why? And now she’s at Sirius’s childhood home, where apparently Harry will be staying for the rest of the summer, with visits to the Burrow, according to Mr. Weasley, but he’d avoided saying ‘why’ Harry is even there.

            Well, she’s not called the brightest witch of her age for now reason, and everything about this screams something is going on.  

            Conspiracy again. _Lovely._

The house itself is not the type of place she’d imagined he’d grown up though. It was in old sort of grim elegance, decaying as if no one had taken care of it in years. According to Mr. Weasley the Order was trying to fix it up and make it more livable. But a few of the rooms were completely liveable, including two bedrooms for her and Ron.

“Sirius grew up here?” Ron asks his dad, incredulous. “Seriously?”

            “Yes, Sirius seriously grew up here,” an unfamiliar man’s voice says, a bit teasingly and oh that pun is awful.

            Hermione starts at the sight of a man who looks quite a bit like Sirius. His hair is a tick lighter, but his eyes are the same shade of grey, and he’s slightly taller than Sirius. He’s dressed in a surprisingly Muggle fashion, with dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, but not wearing shoes, only socks.

            “Hello Regulus,” Mr. Weasley says, smiling slightly. “Everyone else here?” 

            “Esther’s out, possibly traumatizing someone,” says Regulus with a shrug. “She’s bored,” he explains, noticing the same alarmed look on Mr. Weasley’s face that she does. “And honestly, it’s a fifty-fifty chance she’s out there traumatizing someone or petting cats. Or both.” 

            “I am not doing that,” a vaguely offended woman’s voice says from behind him. “I was picking up more food for Chana, I told you that Reggie.”

            “Don’t call me Reggie,” he says, turning away from them, heading back into the house.

            “Then don’t be a jackass.” 

            Mr. Weasley sighs, looking a bit exasperated but still amused.

            “That would be Regulus and Esther, presently two uneasy allies of the Order,” he explains, guiding her and Ron into the house. “Technically, 12 Grimmauld Place is Regulus’s, and he’s letting us stay here. He’s Sirius’s younger brother.”

            “Sirius has a brother?” Ron asks, looking as surprised as she feels. 

            “Yes. It’s a complicated situation, but yes, Sirius has a younger brother,” Mr. Weasley confirms. 

            “You know, it’s not that complicated,” Regulus says, popping his head out of a doorway. “You’ve got six kids, you know how it works Arthur.”             

            “Reggie, that doesn’t actually explain the whole ‘I have a younger brother’ thing,” Sirius points out, still in the other room. 

            “You call me Reggie one more time I’m turning you into a mouse and feeding you to Chana. You’re why Esther keeps doing it.” 

            “Eww, don’t do that you’ll poison my cat! Chana hasn’t done anything to deserve that!”

            “I hate you both,” Sirius says, pouting at the other two as she and Ron follow Mr. Weasley into the other room, which turns out to be a living room.

            Sirius, Regulus and Esther all dressed like Muggles, which strikes Hermione as strange. Even more so since they are all dressed _fashionably,_ rather than in a hodgepodge of clothes, or so completely out of style it was obvious something was going on. Regulus is standing closer to a woman Esther, while Sirius is lying down, sprawled out on a worn out couch. 

            Esther is the one who really catches her attention though, in no little part because she’s never seen her before. Regulus looks so much like Sirius he almost seems familiar. Esther, though, she’s the anomaly. Obviously not English, not with the faint accent she has, and she looks Middle Eastern, in Hermione’s opinion. She also looks older than Sirius and Regulus, and her eyes and hair ware both dark, either a very dark brown or black. 

            But it’s really her eyes that catch Hermione’s attention and make her uneasy.

            There’s something…ancient peering out of them, and there shouldn’t be. 

            “Hello,” Esther says with a smile, sitting in a chair that Regulus then claims the one arm to sit on. “I’m Esther Malka, a friend of Regulus’s. I’m assuming you two are Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley?” 

            “Yes,” Hermione says, biting back a sigh at the goofy expression on Ron’s face. The day her best friend accepted that he’s gay and stopped forcing him to fancy women would be a wonderful day. “Where’s Harry?” she asks, realizing her other best friend isn’t in the room.

            “Still asleep,” Sirius says, expression darkening a bit. “He’s having trouble sleeping these days, too many dreams about what happened. Doesn’t exactly help that none of us are sleeping well,” he adds under his breath. 

            “I’ll ask Kreacher to wake him up,” Regulus says. “Kreacher?” he calls, confusing Hermione for a moment, but then the House Elf pops in. 

            “Master Regulus? What do you need Kreacher to do?” the ancient looking House Elf asks, all but preening under Regulus’s smiling attention. 

            “Can you wake up Harry? His friends are here,” Regulus says, gently resting an affectionate hand on Kreacher’s head. 

            “Yes, Kreacher will wake up Master Harry,” Kreacher says, quickly popping away. 

            “You own a House Elf?” Hermione asks, anger starting to rise. 

            “Kreacher has been in our family for over six hundred years,” says Sirius, adjusting the pillow under his head. “Only really likes Reggie though.” 

            “Stop calling me Reggie Siri. And he likes me because in contrast to you, I’m not a git to him. I get that you have Mummy issues. We both do. But stop being a git to our House Elf.”

            “If you don’t, I suspect Kreacher will start plotting your demise,” Esther adds. “I’ll help him hide the bodies.”

            “Have a lot of experience in that?” Sirius asks, smirking slightly.

            “I have a lot of experience around corpses, you know that,” Esther says blandly, making Sirius choke and lose his balance, rolling off the couch, onto the floor. 

            “Errr…” Ron gives them all wary looks.

            “Corpses?” Hermione asks faintly, not sure if she wants to know, or if it’s a distraction from her anger over Sirius owning a House Elf.

            “Sometimes shit happens and you have an unexpected body to bury,” Esther says with a shrug. “Not always a good situation for burning the body.”

            “Oh how sad that must have made you, not being able to set something on fire,” Regulus deadpans.

            _What the hell?_

“Ron! Hermione!” Harry shouts, running into the kitchen, ignoring Kreacher’s croaking shout of ‘stop running Master Harry!’

            “Harry!” Hermione grins, echoing Ron’s own ecstatic greeting.

            It’s always great to see her best friend, even if she does now have to deal with explaining to Regulus and Sirius that they have to free with House Elf.

* * *

 

            Harry almost bowls over his friends in his eagerness to hug them, giddy at seeing them. It was great to be with Sirius, and kind of cool getting to know Regulus and Esther (even if Esther did scare him a bit), but having his best friends here was different. Better in some ways. They’d been with at school. They’d been with him in the immediate aftermath.

            They always tried to be with him. 

            Well, except for when Ron was being a prat. 

            “Why is Sirius on the floor?” Harry asks, noticing his godfather glaring at the ceiling. 

            “Because Esther startled him,” says Regulus, snickering.

            “I’m allowed to be startled by her discussing corpses and getting rid of them so casually,” Sirius says, glaring at Regulus as he stands up. “It makes her sound like a serial killer.” 

“Oh let it…Arthur? Do you need anything else?” Regulus asks.

             Harry turns, and spies Mr. Weasley standing in the doorway, both Hermione and Ron’s trunks floating behind him. He’d missed the man entirely when he’d sprinted into the kitchen. His smile is a bit weird, but Harry thinks that just because of whatever it was Esther said. She and Regulus really unnerved a lot of the Order. 

             (Especially because of how much they disliked Dumbledore)

             “Hello Harry! The rooms right beside Harry’s, those are Ron and Hermione’s right?” asks Mr. Weasley, gesturing toward the stairs.

             “Yes…” Sirius says slowly, giving Mr. Weasley an odd look. “I showed you them yesterday Arthur.”

             “I just wanted to make sure,” says Mr. Weasley, turning towards the stairs. 

             “Or you wanted to make sure we weren’t talking shit about Dumbledore in front of the kids,” Esther mutters under her breath, smiling slightly.

              “Wait, what?” Hermione asks, Esther obviously not being quiet enough.

             “Nothing,” Esther says, shaking her head slightly and picking up a medium sized device off the table next to her.

             “What’s that?” Hermione asks sharply, brown eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of the device in Esther’s hand.

              “Palm Pilot 1000. Testing it for a friend from the Technion; he thinks he finally got the hardware properly set up to work around the lack of grid set up in magical Europe,” Esther explains, pulling the stylus out of its protective slot. “I think he’s right too. Wards here at least aren’t annoying it, and the reaction I had in Diagon Alley last month was good too. Hogwarts would be the real test, with the heaviness of its wards and all the ambient magic of learning. Need to see if I can get Dumbledore to agree to let me do so,” she adds.

              “Errr, what?” Ron asks, as confused as Harry had been the first time he’d seen the device in Esther’s hands almost a week ago.

             “A Palm Pilot 1000 is a piece of Muggle technology. The version Esther has is one that’s been retrofitted to work on magic, rather than electricity,” Regulus says, tongue not stumbling over what should be an unfamiliar, Muggle term. “Over at the Technion in Israel, and a fair amount of places in the US, MACUSA and Enclave, there’s been experiments in tech and magic. Some places over in South Korea and Japan are doing a lot of that, too.”

             “I have no clue what half the words either of you said, and Reggie, I’m pretty sure that of the two of us, I should know more about Muggle technology than you,” says Sirius, looking a bit amused.

            “You’re not the one I’m bitching at at three in the morning, trying to adjust the reception, or figure out why something that had been working is suddenly failing, and it’s the wrong time to call Yakov, because he’s asleep over in Haifa,” Esther points out. 

            “I’ve had to learn out of self-defense, because she,” Regulus points at Esther, “likes to bounce ideas off of me, even if I don’t have a damn clue what she’s talking about.” 

            “Besides, from what you’ve said, you definitely outdo either of us on knowledge of getting Muggle mechanics to work with magic. Hell, from what you’ve described you can outdo quite a few experts I know in that,” Esther says.

            “You mean with Sirius’s motorcycle?” Harry asks, remembering the vehicle still in Hagrid’s possession. 

            “That’s one example. I’ve tinkered with a few other things over the years,” Sirius admits. “The bike just worked the best.”

             “Wait, there’s parts of the magical world that don’t mind mixing Muggle and magical together?” Hermione demands, and Harry winces at the slight hint of betrayal he hears in his best friend’s voice.

            “Yeah, quite a few,” Regulus says, tilting his head up at a sudden, weird ‘thump’ noise from upstairs, likely caused by Mr. Weasley. “Europe’s actually pretty old fashioned when it comes to division between Muggle and magic.”

            “The Technion allows for a specialization in combining magic with various types of Muggle technologies,” Esther adds. “It’s half a Muggle university, half magical. There’s a lot like that stateside, and I know of a ton in Asia, including University of Tokyo. Not sure of any in Europe though.”

            “Most of Europe relies on the apprenticeship system still,” Sirius says, and Harry can see the fascination on Hermione’s face, and the confusion on Ron’s. He’d definitely been more curious than anything else when the older trio and Remus had been explaining this to him a couple days ago. “Or you just go straight into the work place.”

           “That’s why the NEWTs results are so important,” Hermione says. “OWLs too.” 

           “And you need specific NEWTs and OWLs for most jobs,” Regulus adds. “I think Aurors need…Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions? At least? Nothing needs Muggle Studies or Divinitation, at least not here. Most don’t require extra skills either like being an Animagus, which is why Hogwarts doesn’t require it, even at NEWT level Transfiguration.”

           “Wait, what?” Esther says, sitting up and putting her Pilot down. “You guys don’t learn to be Animagus? Seriously? It’s final year material over at Yeshiva Meor.”

          “Not that many Animagus in England,” Sirius says with a shrug. “I am because the lot of us learned illegally so we could spend time with Remus during his monthly issue. Students don’t learn unless they really, really want to because it’s so hard, and they have to be over fifteen.” 

          Esther gets a thoughtful look on her face, one Harry’s already learned not to trust. She catches Sirius’s eye and smiles at him, and he grins back at her, somehow picking up what she’s thinking (plotting?). Somehow it doesn’t seem like it’s going to end well for them.

         “A challenge then, since we have enough time left in the summer,” Sirius says, still grinning. “You four, are going to learn how to be Animagi.”

* * *

 

          Ron knows his Transfiguration isn’t the best. After his wand replacement after Second Year it had gotten a bit better, but he’s always been better at Charms than Transfiguration. But no matter what, since finding out about Animagi Third Year, he’s wanted to become one. He knew it would be hard, but it would definitely be worth it.

         Even so _, mandrake leaves are bloody disgusting._

          “So, last step is tonight!” Sirius says cheerfully. “You finished making the potion last week, and luckily, tonight is a lightning storm! Even better, that means that for Harry’s birthday tomorrow, you’ll all have succeeded in becoming Animagi.” 

        “Or be in horrific pain due to failed transformation,” Esther adds, just as cheerfully and earning herself a flat look from Professor McGonagall. 

         Ron had been surprised that the Professor had decided to help Sirius and Esther teach them all how to become Animagi, especially since none of them intended to register. But he can see why she would, or at least he could when he’d thought about it a bit more. Unregistered status meant that, as long as their forms were inconspicuous, they could use them against Voldemort. Pettigrew managed to spend over a decade hiding with his family after all, since no one knew he was a rat Animagus (or, well, alive). 

         …He still really needs to ask Fred and George how they never noticed someone named Peter Pettigrew living first with Percy and then with him when they had the Marauders Map. 

         “By the way, even if one of you does die, I can fix that,” Esther says, smirking slightly. “After all, it’s not like it’s hard,” she adds, gesturing to Regulus, and the knowledge she can do necromancy still makes him shiver.

          His parents had told him horror stories of necromancers after all.

          The darkest of dark magics… 

          “So, Reggie, please go first,” Sirius orders, earning himself a glare from Regulus over the nickname, that he’d repeatedly pointed out he hates over the month.

          “ _Amato. Amino. Aminato_. **_Animagus_** ,” Regulus chants, downing his potion as lightening lights up the sky. 

           Regulus’s shout of pain as the transformation starts is overwhelmed by thunder, and it’s almost a terrifying sight. The previous times Ron’d seen an Animagus transform, it had been a smooth transition. Almost carelessly easy. But this, this is not.

           But it works and…

          “Are you a _lion_?” Sirius asks gleefully. “You’re a goddamn lion Reggie.”

          Regulus growls at him, gold eyes narrowing at his brother, even as Esther circles him. 

         “Wrong size and mane wrong for an African lion,” she murmurs, looking thoughtful. “Hmm but what else…Oh. I think you may be an Asiatic Lion,” she comments, smiling slightly. “I’ve seen those before in India. Pretty things, did not appreciate an Arabian leopard appearing out of nowhere.” She nods her head. “Very good job Regulus, now change back.” 

          He shifts back, glaring at them both still.

          “You know, I won’t lie, I was kind of expecting you to be some sort of dog,” Esther says, glancing up at the sky. “But a lion is apt, seeing as Regulus is the brightest star in what you call the Leo constellation, and is sometimes referred the Lion Heart.”

          Both Sirius and Regulus look thoughtful after Esther points that out, and Ron can’t name the expression of Professor McGonagall’s face.

         “Miss Granger, I would suggest you go next,” the Professor says, eyes now unerringly back on them. “Then Mr. Weasley, and then Mr. Potter.”

          Hermione is the best of them at Transfiguration. Harry’s arguably better but…it’s getting closer to midnight. Once it’s midnight it’s July 31. So Harry’s present will be making Animagus, just like his dad. It’s part of why he thinks Sirius and Esther decided to make the challenge over the past month; so that if everything worked perfectly Harry would be an Animagus just in time for his fifteenth birthday. 

          Ron turns back to Hermione and listens to her say the same chant, and down the same, probably disgusting potion (mandrake leaves did not taste good and he’d almost swallowed his so many times over the month). She screams and it’s like watching Regulus all over again, or Pettigrew forced out of his Animagus form.

          But then… 

          “An owl. Quite apt Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall says with a slight smile. “Athene’s most commonly associated animal. Now change back, and Mr. Weasley, prepare yourself.”

           Hermione’s grinning as she changes back, but she doesn’t say anything, just watches him in excitement. It’s definitely one of the hardest things they’ve all done, but all he needs to do is do it. It’s something his brothers haven’t done yet, something he gets to be the first in his family to do. And he’s going to do it. He’s going to succeed.

           He’s _going to_. 

           “ _Amato. Amino. Aminato_. **_Animagus_** ,” he says, downing the potion and… 

           Merlin it hurts. It hurts so much he can’t even taste how disgusting the potion had been. His bones are twisting, bending in ways they shouldn’t and muscles are screaming, but he has to focus, _has to focus_ , **_has to focus_**. 

          And then the pain’s gone.

          “You’re a Golden Retriever,” Hermione says delightedly, going to pet him, Harry following suit.

          Is it weird to let his friends scratch him behind the ears and feel tempted to ask for belly rubs? Is it? Because he kind of wants to. He bets Harry would be great at it.

         “Now Mr. Weasley, change back,” Professor McGonagall orders, but she’s smiling slightly, definitely pleased over three successes so far. 

         “Ready Harry?” Sirius asks, all three of the other adults, focusing more on them. They’d been distracted for a bit following Regulus’s transformation.

         “Ready,” Harry says, sure of himself in a way Ron can’t help but envy. “ _Amato. Amino. Aminato_. **_Animagus_**.” 

          It’s the same as his transformation, as Hermione, as Regulus’s. Bones cracking, body warping, but then it’s done, and there’s an animal where his best friend had been standing. An animal and none of them had failed at doing this.

        “Merlin," Ron breathes, staring at Harry's Animagus form.

        "Huh, you figured out what he was immediately. I'm impressed," Esther says, smiling faintly. 

        "What?" 

        "Harry's a merlin. You said merlin?" Esther gives him a confused look. "Oh right, you Brits swear by Merlin, don't you?"

        “So, all three of you have forms for moving around undetected,” Regulus says, cutting Esther off from saying anything else. Probably another of those jabbing comments about magical England that made his parents twitch. “Good. Mine is mostly good for eating people, but hey, shit happens.”

 _Regulus is definitely right about that_ , Ron thinks. _At Hogwarts Harry and Hermione’s forms are the best two but…they can definitely use this._

        Besides, he can think of a lot of great pranks they can pull with a dog and two birds.

* * *

 

        “So…we need to figure something else out,” Regulus says, sprawling across his bed as Esther changes into her pajamas. They’d both dried off after heading out of the storm.

        “What?” she asks, pausing in putting on her shirt and looking over her shoulder. Her back’s towards him, because he really doesn’t want to see his best friend’s boobs. 

         “How I get legally resurrected.”

         “Technically, no matter what, there is no legal form of resurrection. Necromancy is illegal in the Great Britain.”

         “…That isn’t what I meant and you know it.”

        “I know, but I like making fun of you.”

        “Esther.”

         “Alright, alright. There has to be a method of getting yourself declared alive though? All we need to do is figure out a convincing story to explain where you’ve been for the past fifteen years, and get someone to verify it really is you. We really can’t risk them using Veritiaserum on you,” she adds, putting her shirt on and sitting on her cot, now facing him.

         “Kreacher would work for that. House Elves always know who their master is,” Regulus says thoughtfully. “With Kreacher’s word we’d also be able to avoid dealing with challenges from Narcissa. Then again, we’d be able to do that with Veritiaserum.”

          “Yeah, but you’d get caught out almost immediately once they ask we’re you’ve been for the past fifteen years,” Esther points out. “As is, we need to figure out an airtight story over that. We could probably claim you were living in the Muggle half of Tzfat, and had lost your memory of who you were, only getting it back recently due to a spell misfire or something. Weirder things have happened, and I am known at Meor for having Muggle friends. Easy enough to claim you were one of them, or that I at least thought you were a Muggle up till the misfire. And bribes. Bribes should help, and getting access to the House Black vault would also prove you are who you say you are.”

          “It’s really sad that that’ll probably work,” Regulus says with a sigh. “I can’t believe the Ministry is still so bloody corrupt. It’s pathetic.”

          “It’s a government, they’re all fucking corrupt. How else do you think I keep taking over countries?”

          “…I’m going to remind you for the tenth time this week that you should really not talk about the amount of times you’ve conquered countries, and instead on just focusing on making sure this _country_ doesn’t get conquered by someone who lost his nose.”

         “Technically I am. I’m also just reminiscing while we plot.” 

         “Please stop.”

         “You’re no fun.”

         “I’d like for the Order to _not_ realize you are several different historic Dark Witches.”

         “I’m also a number of famous Light Witches and Muggles.”

          “Whatever. Let’s focus on legally resurrecting me, not your habit of fluctuating between being evil and angelic.”

          “…Do you even believe in angels?”

          “Shut up Esther _and just help me plot_.”

* * *

 

           “Sirius is a much better teacher than I’d been expecting,” Minerva says, yellow-brown eyes contemplative behind her square glasses. “It’s a pity we can’t hire him on as the coming year’s Defense teacher, or even as an assistant for myself. I always knew he was excellent at Transfiguration, but to have achieved Animagus without assistance? I can name only a few that could do the same.”

            “What are your thoughts on Miss Malka?” asks Albus, knowing it’s an abrupt change of topic, but needing to know. He trusts Minerva to make an unbiased judgement, and after his first meeting with the Israeli witch, he’s not so certain he can. By the look on her face though she’d rather keep praising Sirius, but still does as he asks. 

            “She’s very loyal to Regulus. They both are to each other. She does seem to care about Harry, Hermione and Ron, but I think she views Sirius as important more due to his connection to Regulus and Harry than holding any particular care towards him. I think she views most of the Order as only important due to our defiance towards Voldemort, and that otherwise she wouldn’t care about most of us.”

            “Most?”

            “Esther seems to hold a genuine fondness towards Tonks and the Weasleys as a whole. She also seems to like Remus.” Minerva bites her lower lip, an unusual sign of concern. “I would strongly advise that her’s and Severus’s interactions are limited as much as is possible. She has a very, very low opinion of him, as does Regulus. While neither have interacted with him yet, I don’t think it will end well if he comes to 12 Grimmauld Place. 

            “Much like Sirius she is a good teacher. She certainly helped him teach Regulus, Harry, Hermione and Ron about how to become Animagus, though I could have done without her unexpectedly shifting into her Animagus form of an Arabian leopard to make a point. Though her title at Yeshiva Meor is ‘scholar-in-residence’ she normally teaches at least one class a year.” Minerva looks a bit amused for a second. “I know what you want to offer her Albus, so that you can keep an eye on her, and it seems her resume works for you in this case. The most common course for her to teach is Defense Against the Dark Arts, though she frequently alternates with teaching a history course concerning the Dark Arts and the evolution of Defense against them. She’s actually explained quite a few things to anyone who’s asked.” 

            “So you think she can be trusted around the students and most of the other teachers?”

            “Yes. For all her disdain towards Severus, I believe she won’t hex or curse him while at _Hogwarts_. She’d be polite enough to wait until they’re off the school grounds. I don’t foresee any issues with other professors, or any of the other staff. Based on her interactions with Harry and the others, I also have faith that she’d be a patient teacher with them.” She glances at the clock. “I need to go Albus, I need to finish writing my syllabuses for the year and preparing for the all the letters to be sent out. I don’t need a repeat of that mess from ten years ago when none of the Fifth Year letters got sent. Have a good day Albus.” 

            “Have a good rest of the day Minerva.”

            Albus leans back in his chair, musing on Minerva’s words as she walks out. 

            He doesn’t like dealing with unknowns, and Esther Malka, even after a month is still almost completely an unknown. The only relief he has about her is the fact she has no Dark Mark, but then again, that very first day she had made an unfortunately excellent point. Most of the world _hadn’t_ cared about Voldemort’s first rise. As an Israeli witch, it would be incredibly unlikely that she would have become a Death Eater to begin with. Then again, based on the fact she had befriended Regulus while he’d still been loyal to Voldemort and a Death Eater, did make him suspect she is a Dark Witch.

            Especially with her rather concerning obsession with Fiendfyer and impressive control over it. 

            After last year, it’s probably unwise to allow two people who could be considered Dark in Hogwarts, but he also doesn’t want Regulus Black or Esther Malka someplace he can’t keep track of them. He knows Regulus intends to get himself declared legally alive, and most likely will get assistance from Esther, since Regulus had said little to him. Even though both are likely Dark, at least he doesn’t have to worry about them supporting Voldemort, not with Regulus having destroyed a Horcrux, and Esther’s disdain for pureblood supremacy.

            He truly would like to figure out what the woman’s background is... 

            Based on Minerva’s analysis of Esther Malka, offering her the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for the coming year would probably work. He would just need to verify with Yeshiva Meor that she is an able teacher. And, well, the professors never do seem to last more than a year…As well as starting a new program, with Regulus as the first scholar-in-residence at Hogwarts. He suspects that the former Slytherin will agree, even if for no other reason than to be able to study the Hogwarts’ wards.

           A good way to keep an eye on both.

          A good way to figure them out. 

         A _very_ good way to make the coming school year interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
> 1\. The Palm Pilot 1000 is an actual PDA that was out during the mid 90s (also, fun fact, Bic apparently sued the makers of the Palm Pilot for calling it that, since they thought people would believe they were somehow involved in it's creation; their case was successful)
> 
> 2\. Obviously, we will be seeing the training at some point via flashback
> 
> 3\. Hey look, a plotting Dumbledore
> 
> 4\. The Technion really is located in Haifa, and the University of Tokyo is a real university
> 
> 5\. At some point I will get around to listing everyone's sexualities, but as of now I'll just point out that Ron is gay (and in denial), Sirius and Remus are bi, Regulus is gay, and Esther only really cares that her partner is consenting.
> 
> 5\. There are without a doubt other things I meant to include in these notes but I forgot. 
> 
> 6\. Feel free to ask questions in reviews


	5. The (Legal) Resurrection of Regulus Black

            “You know, it’s gonna be a bit suspicious, me finding out you’re alive, _and_ being the one to bring Sirius in for a proper trial,” Tonks points out, sitting on the kitchen table and ignoring Kreacher’s grumbles and glares over her doing so. Regulus is still trying to get him to stop insulting all the none purebloods and ‘blood traitors’ in the house, but at least he’s gotten Kreacher to listen to Sirius, Harry and Esther with minimal complaints.

            Okay, he doesn’t actually insult Esther at all due to her resurrecting him, but she’s about the only one besides himself that Kreacher won’t insult. 

            “However, you did recently make the news for working with Aurors from Israel to destroy that Dark items black market,” Esther says, as if she hadn’t been the one to arrange the working arrangement. She has a truly terrifying list of contacts, including the present Minister of Magic in Israel, who she’s known since he was a young student at Yeshiva Meor. “So in Regulus’s case you bumped into him that way, and he’d been ‘getting his memories back’ and thought you were your mother. Sirius’s case…okay, maybe Shacklebolt should do it.”

            “Make a bit more sense, since he is in charge of the Sirius manhunt,” Tonks says, swinging her legs. “’sides, if you do something along the lines of Regulus finding out what happened to Sirius after he gets declared alive and takes control of the House Black Lordship, demands the trial, and then Sirius ‘turns himself in’ to Kingsley, since he knows who’s been running the manhunt.” 

            “That could definitely work,” Regulus agrees, ignoring the very thoughtful look Esther is giving Tonks. 

            He really hopes he doesn’t have to kill his best friend for sleeping with his younger cousin. A bit awkward that.

* * *

 

 

            “Sirius, can I ask you something?” Regulus asks, knocking on Sirius’s closed door. 

            “Yeah, but give me a minute. I’ll meet you downstairs,” says Sirius, grabbing for his pants and debating if he needs a shirt.

            _Yeah, kids are around and I do look a bit mauled,_ he thinks, glancing back at a sleeping Remus, who almost feels like he’s radiating smugness in his sleep. _Possessive puppy._

            He ignores the sudden ‘boom’ from the kitchen, Kreacher’s shrieks, and what sounds like the Weasley twin’s maniacal cackling. He also ignores Esther scolding them, because she is being a bit of a hypocrite. So much shit ended up on fire. 

            _So fucking much the woman is a goddamn pyro_ , he thinks, shaking his head _._

So really, the kids and the twins could set things on fire or explosions. Kreacher will clean it all up. Or attempt to murder them in their sleep. Either or.

            “One day, we’re going to come down and find out we no longer have a kitchen,” Regulus says idly, peering at the smoke coming out of the kitchen as he waits for Sirius at the bottom of the stairs. “Or the Weasley twins.”

            “Eh, they’ll survive Esther.” 

            “You know damn well I meant that they’re going to blow themselves up Sirius. Esther’s only scolding them anyway because they keep scaring Chana.”

            “…She is terrifyingly over protective of her cat.” 

            “Trust me, I know. That’s not what I wanted to talk about though. I have something else I want to discuss,” Regulus says, leading Sirius into what had been their Father’s study and is now Regulus’s. 

            Their parents would have hated it. Regulus makes sure to buy nothing but Muggle furniture, and there’s various bits and pieces of Muggle technology that Esther is working on (and swearing at). He can see still photos, and a part of him still wonder’s ‘why’. 

            Why had the Horcrux had been the last straw? Why did he no longer believe what their parents drilled into them, that purebloods are better, the best? Why did he hide that he knew so much about wards, that he knew Esther? Why did he become friends with Esther, who isn’t even a pureblood (or there was apparently something complicated going on there)? 

             Why is he so different than what Regulus used to be?

             “…Sirius! _Sirius_!” Regulus snaps at him, Sirius finally noticing his brother has been speaking. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for over a minute.”

            “Sorry, thinking about things,” he says vaguely, not entirely sure how to ask Regulus any of the questions he has. “What were you saying?” 

             “I was saying that we need to change the family crest,” Regulus says, making Sirius choke on his own saliva. “It really doesn’t fit us anymore.”

 _Well he’s not wrong_ , Sirius thinks, bemused. _But what the bloody fuck!?_              

            “There’s a skull and you were resurrected,” Sirius points out.

            “Yeah, and the Dark Mark is a skull with a snake coming out of it. I’d like to not have a crest that reminds me of that, and I have an idea I think you’d like,” Regulus says, smirking slightly and pulling a piece of parchment off his desk. 

            “Oh?” Sirius asks, not sure what his brother has designed.

            And he chokes again, this time with laughter.

            “Mum would have killed you,” he snickers. “She wouldn’t have just burnt you off the tapestry. She would have bloody well killed you.”

            “Eh, at least it would have been faster than how I did die,” Regulus says, smirk widening. “So, what do you think?” 

            “I think it’s great,” Sirius grins.

            On the parchment is the Leo constellation, the stars a deep, sapphire blue, connected with gold lines. The only exception is the Regulus star, which is white. New beginnings, separation from a dark past. It’s in a shield like the one from the previous Black crest, but the background is black, like the night sky, and the way the drawing is done, the crest appears to shine with an inner light. Outside of the black, everything about it would infuriate their parents. 

            “Oh yeah, this definitely works,” Sirius says gleefully. “I’m guessing…?” 

            “I’ll update the crest when I get declared alive,” Regulus says, smirk slipping into a smile. “Which should be happening tomorrow. When that happens, I’ll demand trial records since I ‘heard’ about your betrayal of the Potters and throw a fit over the lack of trial. Then you’ll turn yourself into Shacklebolt, once I make them agree to giving you a trial with Veritaserum. Then, profit.” 

            “…I’m pretty sure that’s not how the expression is supposed to go.”

            “Well, seeing as I’m reclaiming the Black accounts from Narcissa…” 

            “Fair point.”

* * *

 

            Cornelius Fudge has a very, very bad feeling. The type of bad feeling that normally proceeds something like Sirius Black’s escape, or the horrific end of the Triwizard Tournament. There’s been something going on down in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the past few hours, connected to the Department of Mysteries, and bizarrely enough the Department of Registration.

            He’s not sure he even wants to know.

            “Minister? There’s something down in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement you need to see,” a young Auror says, walking quickly towards him. He doesn’t know her name, rarely cares about the Aurors since their failure to recapture Black (and put his reelection chances at a risk).

 

            “What?” he asks, not able to think of anything that could require his presence (unless Dumbledore’s ridiculous story is true, and that’s impossible. Voldemort is dead, and that’s it!). 

            The Auror chews her lip, and he can’t figure out the look on her face. Her expressions are too controlled, giving almost nothing away. He can tell she’s trying to figure out what to say, but he can’t figure out why she’s having so much difficulty. Merlin, did Potter get in trouble again? That’s the only thing he could think of…

            “Earlier this morning, Regulus Black was discovered and verified as alive,” she finally says, making him choke. “Verification from the Black’s House Elf Kreacher, test of the Gringott’s wards on the Black’s vault, and accounts from Auror Tonks, Esther Malka and Auror Aron Hametz, both of Israel further verify Lord Black’s survival and apparent residency in Israel for the past fifteen years. Veritaserum was used to also verify he is who he says he is. He has claimed his position as the head of the Black family and their lordship, along with their ten seats in the Wizengamot. If you will follow me Minster, he would like to speak with you. Madame Bones is also on her way.”

            Cornelius follows her in a daze, barely registering ‘hellos’ from Minstry employees, or the sound of Dolores’ voice. This…this is _impossible._ More impossible even than Voldemort suddenly returning to life. The heir of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight suddenly reappearing after being missing for more than a decade? Somehow turning up in _Israel_ of all places? How could he have even ended up there?

            Sooner than he expects they’re in front of the door of the Auror’s Division and then she leads him deeper in, to a closed door. He can hear the low murmur of voices as the Auror knocks on the door, and maybe he should have asked for her name. The voices cut off at the sound of the knock, and then it’s Shacklebolt who opens the door.

            “Minister,” he says politely. “Becca, you can head back to your desk. Andrea is back, and needs your case notes.”

            “Got it,” she says with a grin. “Tell Tonks I say hi, and we’ll be at Three Broomsticks later!” 

            “I will,” he says, meeting her smile with his own, and then the girl turns away to walk to her desk. “Please follow me Minister,” Shacklebolt says, a serious expression slipping over the friendlier look he’d given the other Auror.

            Immediately he spots Amelia, Head of Magical Law Enforcement looking fascinated as she stares at a man and a woman, both dressed in Muggle clothes and sitting. He recognizes Nymphadora Tonks, the disowned niece of Narcissa Malfoy sitting on a desk, grinning at the seated duo, with the woman giving her a faint smile, and the man’s gaze turning on him. A second man stands, leaning against the wall, and Cornelius suspects that must be Aron Hametz, with the unknown woman being Esther Malka. 

            And even though it’s been fifteen years, and they weren’t close, he recognizes Regulus Black. Too much like his treacherous brother in appearance, and bafflingly dressed, but it’s undeniably Regulus Black. 

            “Cornelius!” Black says, voice mockingly friendly. “So nice to see you and Amelia! We were just discussing a very, very important matter!”

            “Oh?” he asks, voice shaking slightly, wishing he could stuff his equally shaky hands into his robe pockets. “Concerning your return to England?”

            “Something like that,” the woman murmurs, smirking slightly and making Tonks snicker.

            “Amelia was just trying to explain something to me, and doing a piss-poor job of it,” Black says, his tone still mocking. “And maybe you can do a bit better, though from what I remember from Hogwarts, you were always shite at explaining anything important.”

            He puffs up in offense, opening his mouth and then catches the look on the woman besides Black’s face. It’s seemingly friendly, but it’s the sort of friendly that a second later leads to a hex. He shuts his mouth, watching the duo warily, especially as Black’s lips twist into a snarl.

            “Why, in bloody Merlin’s name, was my older brother never given a trial?”

            Oh bloody hell… 

            He knew this was going to be a bad day. Just bloody well _knew it_.

* * *

             Lucius honestly hates _The Daily Prophet._ The name is idiotic, the writing is shoddy, and all it is is a propaganda device for the Ministry. Which yes, did make things convenient for him, but he sometimes wished there were more options (or at least better writers). At least he always knows what’s going on… 

             He spits out his tea at the headline and cover photo.

             “Lucius!” snaps Narcissa, getting hit by some of the spray. “What’s wrong?”

              “Regulus Black is alive,” he says faintly, gaping slightly at the paper. 

_Surprise Survival of Regulus Black!_

_Yesterday, to the shock of the Ministry of Magic and magical England as a whole, Regulus Black was confirmed to be alive, after having been declared dead fifteen years ago. The heir of House Black (now head and Lord Black) died under mysterious circumstances. Rumors have always abounded, from the absurd to the possible. But now at least a bit of that mystery has been solved._

_For the past fifteen years he has resided in Tzfat, Israel, the heart of the Israeli magical community.  He can’t recall how he ended up there, but he lived quietly, interacting with only a few people, including Esther Malka. Esther Malka is a scholar-in-residence at Yeshiva Meor, one of the oldest schools in the Middle East. She is considered a foremost authority on the history of Dark Magic in the Middle East and Central Asia._

_As a result of their friendship and her status as an authority on Middle Eastern Dark Magic, during a recent collaboration between the Ministries of Magic in here and in Israel, Regulus’s survival was discovered. Auror Nymphadora Tonks, who’s mother is the disowned Andromeda Tonks, nee Black, was the reason Regulus was discovered. While his memories had been slowly returning, it was her visage, almost identical to her mother’s, jarred the rest of his memories and with assistance from Mindhealers he was able to fully remember his life within a month._

_While this may sound fantastic, it’s true. For over six hundred years House Black has had a House Elf in their service who swore that Regulus Black was who he claimed to be. He was able to open the blood-locked door guarding the Black family Gringotts vault. He swore under Vertiaserum who he is._

_Regulus Black is alive and well. See page 3 for more._  

                   “Regulus Black has been declared and verified as alive,” Lucius says slowly. “He had been living as an amnesiac in Israel, but had been slowly regaining his memories, and with meeting Auror Tonks he regained all of them memories.” 

                  “That’s ridiculous sounding,” Narcissa points out, raising a thin, pale brow at him.

                  He can’t help but give her a flat look. So was the Great Lord’s resurrection, but she’s never pointed that out. Lucius still can’t believe it actually happened, and still hasn’t figured out what to do. He’s still loyal to the cause but...well, the first new meeting could have been done in a place better than a graveyard. And now having to plot a breakout for Bellatrix and the idiots who let themselves be caught…

                “What’s going on!” Draco demands. “Who is Regulus Black? Why does it matter if he’s alive or not?”

                 “He’s a cousin who was believed to have died during the war. No one knew what happened to him, but according to the _Prophet_ , he ended up an amnesiac in Israel,” says Lucius, already making plans on how to deal with this. Regulus’s survival meant Narcissa no longer would have access to the Black family vault, at least not without Regulus’s permission.

                 Permission he’s certain the new Lord Black will give, and the Great Lord will be pleased at Regulus’s return but…something is not right here. Something is about to go very, very wrong.

* * *

 

                   Snape does not like being in 12 Grimmauld Place. The decrepit elegance of the house irritates him, even as it’s being fixed. The residents of the house irritate him more, with several making him wary. He’s almost certain Malka and the younger Black are plotting against him, and he’s never been dumb enough to trust the elder or Lupin, who seems to have taken up permanent residence.

                   He sneers as he sees Potter rush up the stairs, Malka’s cat tearing off after him. Granger suddenly shrieks, and he can hear Weasley’s own surprised shout. It had probably leapt on one of them again. Damn thing seems to like aggravating people, and keeps attempting to trip him down the stairs. He’s contemplated hexing it, but he knows Malka would avenge her cat. 

                   She’s vindictive, he’s noticed.

                   “Well, that worked,” he hears from behind him, and he turns his head slightly to see Malka, Black, and Tonks. “Better than I thought it would,” Black adds.

                  “Don’t think I’ve seen Fudge turn that pale before,” Tonks says, stretching her arms over her head. “Can’t believe we had to stay at the Ministry overnight though.” 

                  “I can,” Black snorts. “Fudge is trying to do damage control. It’s too late for that, since the story already hit the _Prophet_ , but he’s trying. As is, Sirius’s trial got shoved to the page three. While people getting shoved in Azkaban after the War is still seen as fine, with how high profile the mess was, Sirius should have been tried, especially as a member of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It’s not like with Crouch Jr. and the Lestranges is. They were caught in the act.”

                “It may also lead to people questioning if any people suspected of Death Eaters were asked under Veritaserum if they were or were not,” Malka says, looking thoughtful. “Then again, England does seem to enjoy having its collective head in the sand.” She then notices him still standing in the hallway. “Oh. _You_. Is there an Order meeting I’ve forgotten about, or are you simply here to irritate us with your presence?”

                “I needed to speak with Minerva and she’s here,” he says, a bit stiffly. He still doesn’t understand what he’s done to annoy the Israeli witch so badly, but until he does he’s not sure he wants to push her. “Albus as well.”

                Her unfortunate fondness of Fiendfyer makes him think it’s a wise view to have. 

               “Why the hell is the old goat here?” she mutters under her breath, ignoring Tonks’ exasperated expression.

               “Who knows?” Black says with a shrug. “But whatever. Go see them and then I would advise leaving. We aren’t feeding you.”

               “Certainly,” he says coolly, and he heads up the stairs himself, ignoring the sounds of Potter and his friends bickering, aiming to reach the library. It’s Albus’s favorite room in Grimmauld Place, or so it seemed. He seemed to spend any time he was there in the room.

              “Albus? Minerva?” he asks, rapping at the shut door. If they’re having a private meeting he doesn’t want to walk in on them, though he does wonder why they’d do so in Grimmauld Place, rather than Hogwarts. 

             “Come in Severus! We were just discussing this year’s Defense Professor,” Albus explains, sitting in front of a grimy window. The room so far had surprisingly little done to clean it.

             He shoves down a burst of hope. Albus won’t make him professor, he knows that from bitter experience. But maybe…

            “She needs to say ‘yes’ still Albus,” Minerva says, giving him a sharp look. “I suspect she will, but her dislike of you may mean she won’t.”

             Wait. No. It can’t be who he’s thinking of. 

             Albus isn’t so mad as to let her near Hogwarts?

             Right?

_Right?_

* * *

 

            “You want me to what?” Esther asks flatly, unable to hide her skepticism. 

            “I want you to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” Dumbledore says, blue eyes twinkling and making Esther want to punch him in the face. “You’re obviously a well-educated woman Ms. Malka, especially in the field and…”

            “You can say you think I’m a Dark Witch Dumbledore, I already know your rather low opinion of me,” she interrupts. “You’re honestly kind of shite at keeping that hidden. Why though? The actual answer, not a convenient side-step, or else I’m getting the Veritaserum out.” It’s pathetic how often she has to threaten that.

            “You are a very frustrating woman,” Dumbledore informs her with a sigh, eyes no longer twinkling. She knows where his frustration is coming from; both she and Regulus lack the awe so many other’s feel towards him and it’s harder to manipulate them as a result, since they are neither terrified or respectful. “But fine.”          

            “The Ministry is attempting to interfere at Hogwarts. If I do not find a professor by the end of this week, they will insert a Ministerial employee in the position,” Dumbledore explains. “If it was an employee that I was allowed to choose, I would not be so worried. I would request Shacklebolt or another Auror sympathetic to the Order of the Phoenix. However, a draft of the Education Decree that would be used to insert in the professor showed that it would be a woman by the name of Dolores Umbridge.”

            Esther raises a brow at the surprising hint of dislike to Dumbledore’s voice. Even she had yet to get that tone, and she knows he believes that without her here that Regulus would be more willing to listen to him. Discounting the fact that without her he’d still be _dead_ , Dumbledore, she’s noticed, does not seem to get that even Light sympathetic Slytherins dislike him due to his blatant favoritism toward Gryffindor and his piss-poor job at hiding his disdain toward their House. Regulus would be about as willing to listen to him as he would Voldemort.

            “I’m assuming she’s either an unsympathetic Auror or not a member of Magical Law Enforcement?” she asks, already knowing she’ll say ‘yes’. It would make it far easier to keep an eye on Harry and the other children at least…

            “The Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic,” he says, making Esther’s other brow go up. That isn’t even close to a position that should be allowed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts… “She holds a great deal of sway over the Minister. I recall from her time at Hogwarts a degree of bitterness that she was never made Prefect or Head Girl. I’m not certain if she ever realized that was at the advice of her Head of House, Horace Slughorn. Severus also made disparaging comments concerning her when I mentioned the draft to him.”

            Slughorn, Slughorn, why does that name sound familiar…

            “Horace Slughorn was also Regulus’s Head of House,” Esther recalls. And if her time at Hogwarts overlapped with Snape’s, Regulus likely knew Umbridge as well. She’d need to ask him about the woman later, or at least what he recalled from his time. “Alright.” 

            “Alright?” Dumbledore repeats, a bit warily. 

            “Alright, I will take the position and keep the Ministry out of Hogwarts,” she says. “Besides, I’ve seen the disparaging statements in the _Prophet._ If that isn’t at least partially Ministerial propaganda I’ll kiss Snape. A Ministry toady as a result would be a poor person to be in a professorial position.

            “I can have the Headmistress of Yeshiva Meor come up with a recommendation for me as a scholar in residence to explain my qualifications,” Esther says. It would hardly be the first time Rivka or her predecessors had done that for her after all. She founded the school after all. “And that she had advised me to respond to your posting for a professor.”

            “That should work,” he says, his shoulder’s relaxing, and his eyes twinkling again. 

            “Please stop twinkling at me, it’s annoying.”

            “My apologies.”

            “You’re still doing it.”

            “My further apologies.” 

            “Seriously. _Stop it_. _Stop fucking twinkling at me._ ”

* * *

          Dolores Umbridge is not a woman who likes to be thwarted, not now at least. Not as the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, not as someone who held a seat on the Wizengamot. Not when she’s so close to what she wants. 

            But this summer it keeps happening! 

            First it had been Harry Potter’s disappearance from his Aunt and Uncle’s home, only to reappear at the Burrow. She’d heard no rumor around the Ministry that Potter was going to be at the Weasley’s so early in the summer; every story she heard placed him there in late August. She couldn’t send Dementors there. Potter would never need to use his Patronus and violate the Underage Restriction, not with Molly and Arthur Weasley. She knows for a fact they can both make a corporeal Patronus. 

            So that plan had been a failure even before it had begun. 

            And now _this._ Now Dumbledore handily avoiding her and Cornelius’s efforts to implant her in Hogwarts. A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been found by him, a scholar from Yeshiva Meor. With that position filled, Education Decree 22 could not be in place. Hogwarts is still a private institution, and if a position is filled, the Ministry couldn't force out the employee.

            She scowls, looking down at the folder she had ‘borrowed’ from Cornelius. The new professor’s name is Esther Malka, scholar-in-residence at Yeshiva Meor, as well as a former student. The photo in the file shows a tall, slender woman with dark hair and eyes. She looks like she's wearing Muggle clothes, but the Israeli magic and Muggle communities overlapped more than most countries. Only MACUSA and the Enclaves were really comparable, with the Enclaves worse than MACUSA. But still, the woman is young, and what Dolore’s suspects is well-dressed in Muggle terms. 

            Almost without a doubt a Muggle lover, but one with an interesting academic focus at least. It’s fairly rare to find one whose primary area of study is on the history of the Dark Arts in the Middle East and Central Asia. Even more so, since there are implications in her file that she might be a little...Darker than the average Muggle lover too.

            “Err, ma’am?” her secretary says, knocking at her partially open door. “I have news.” 

            She raises a brow at the nervous tone of her secretary’s voice. Normally Amalia is confident, secure in her position and power as Dolores secretary.

            “What is it Amalia?” she asks. “You can come in.”

            Amalia walks in silently, fingers tapping against her thigh. A sign of stress in the former Slytherin, but truly not one Dolores had expected to see, even with the nervous tone. Just as silently she hands Dolores the paper in her hand, and for the third time that summer, Dolores Umbridge felt plans that had just barely been started crash and burn around her.

_Sirius Black is to be tried for the betrayal of Lily and James Potter, as well as the murder of Peter Pettigrew. Veriatiserum is to be used. The trial will be in one day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look things happened. And yes, rather obviously, no Dementors, but there's a still an August trial. 
> 
> Feel free to ask me any questions!
> 
> (also, the first person to pick up on a ship implied in the chapter will get a one-shot written for them)


	6. The Trial of Sirius Black

_He looks surprisingly well fed for a man on the run for two years,_ Rufus thinks, studying Sirius Black. 

            The Azkaban escapee had turned himself in a day after his younger brother’s miraculous return and the Ministry’s agreement to give the elder Black a proper trial. He’d obviously been keeping abreast of the news (wisely, in Rufus’s grudging opinion), which likely allowed him to keep ahead of Kinglesy and Tonks. He may have even been outside of England, based on Black’s tan. Smart of him, they hadn’t really started looking on the Continent or elsewhere.

            A mistake that, especially with Regulus Black’s mysterious reappearance in Israel of all places. How the hell the now-Lord Black had done that Rufus can’t help but wonder, but he knows he’ll never know. Lord Black didn’t remember _that_. Auror Hametz and Ms. Malka had no idea either. Both had been under the impression prior to Lord Black regaining his memories that the man had been a Muggle.

            It did strike him as funny that even lacking his memories Lord Black had ended up living near a major magical community. Apparently there was something there also involving the Muggle community? Not magic but mysticism? Or something like that.

            He shakes his head, focusing back on who’s in front of him. Six Aurors guarded Black’s cell, awaiting the trial in another four hours. The man is dozing, or at least it seems to be that way. Rufus thinks he’s seen the silver-gray of Black’s eyes a few times, so even with the even, slow breaths, it’s likely less sleep and more meditative.

            Gives him time to have his own meditative thoughts. 

            The lack of trials following the War had always left a bad taste in Rufus’s mouth. He suspects the majority of those imprisoned in Azkaban were guilty of their crimes. Enough even should have been given the Dementor’s kiss (certainly the _Lestranges_ ). But it also meant that plenty of Death Eaters, such as Lucius Malfoy, had escaped justice. The man’s claims of being under the Imperius Curse were a load of shite, and he looks forward to the day he can throw Malfoy in Azkaban to _rot_. Use of Veritaserum would make that so easy. 

            It makes it so easy to prove the guilt or innocence of people.

            He is truly looking forward to what the trial will bring.

* * *

 

            _Justice._

It’s a concept Amelia frequently finds missing from the Ministry. 

            At least in this case she can right what may have been a horrific wrong. If Regulus Black’s suspicions are correct...does it make her a bad person to hope he’s incorrect? That Crouch had it right the entire time, that Sirius Black had betrayed the Potters, that he had turned away from the Light and slunk back to the Dark he’d been born in? To hope that for over a decade she hadn’t kept an innocent man in Azkaban?

            She sighs, studying the papers in on her desk. The trial starts in less than an hour, and she still doesn’t feel ready. The way Fudge is fluttering around isn’t helping. The man is more focused on the personal political ramifications of the trial, all while ignoring that the public likely won’t care. They never do. They really hadn’t cared about Cedric Diggory’s death at all, even though he’d died on bloody Hogwarts grounds, or as good as. 

            She’s gotten bitter over the years, but can’t bring herself to care. 

            The knock at her door makes her head up and frown. She has no meeting this morning, not with having to prepare for the trial. On top of that, she’d told her secretary Edgar to make sure no one disturbed her. 

            “Madame Bones? Ms. Malka wants to speak with you,” Edgar says, voice slightly muffled by the door. 

            Her frown deepens. She can’t imagine what the Israeli woman would want. She knows Ms. Malka is a friend of Lord Black’s, that she’s a scholar and apparently a consultant for the Israel’s Ministry of Magic. But beyond that, she really can’t think of why Ms. Malka would want to speak with her before the trial.

            “She can come in,” Amelia says slowly, a bit wary.

            “I apologize Madame Bones,” Ms. Malka says as she steps into the room, not shutting the door behind her. “I just had a question for you? If you are willing to answer.” 

            “It depends on the question,” says Amelia, curiosity battling with wariness.

            “Understandable,” Ms. Malka says, sitting down at the chair across from Amelia’s desk. “I’m going to be blunt, and this is my most important question. Will Sirius Black get a fair trial?” 

            Amelia chokes.

            “You think I wouldn’t give him a fair trial?” she demands.

            “I think I’ve been watching your Minister fluttering around like a loon, muttering about the political ramifications of what will happen when Sirius is proven innocent,” Ms. Malka says, as blunt as before and showing a surprising amount of faith in man she doesn’t know. “About the political ramifications to _himself_ , at that. Everything I’ve heard come out of the man’s mouth has been, ‘me, me, me’. Maybe with the name Dolores thrown in on occasion. 

            “On top of that, your department didn’t do a damn thing in the first place to give Sirius a fair trial. He was simply thrown into Azkaban, no questions asked, relying on the words of a dead man to convict him. So why shouldn’t I be concerned?” 

            Amelia leans back, feeling older than she is. It had seemed so simple at the time. The scion of a Dark family finally proving his true colors, leading to the death of people who loved and trusted him. Did such obvious guilt even deserve a trial? But now… 

            “Trust me when I say this Ms. Malka. I will do everything in my power to assure Mr. Black gets a fair trial. I don’t care a whit about Fudge’s political whinings, I don’t care about the possibility that this could cost me my position. I do care about making sure the trial is fair. No matter what the result is, I will be sure that everything is done in the legal fashion, in contrast to fifteen years ago. Veritaserum has been readied. The barrister Lord Black hired is waiting. Were there witnesses, they’d be here. If Sirius Black is innocent, he will go free and get an apology from the Ministry. If he’s guilty, he will be returned to Azkaban.”

            Ms. Malka studies her, and then nods, a faint smile touching her lips.

            “Thank you Madame Bones,” she says, standing up. “I do trust you, and thank you for assuaging my worries. After what happened with Sirius, I worried, but I have faith that you will do the right thing. Your Minister still concerns me, but as I recall, he only holds a single vote?”

            “He isn’t part of the jury. It was deemed unwise to have any major members of the government involved in the jury,” Amelia says, with a slightly wry twist to her lips. “After all, many of my…co-workers, historic and present will end up with a black eye depending on how the trial goes. No, Cornelius was denied the possibility of serving on the jury. Much like Lord Black was, even though commonly at least one member of the Noble Houses serves in a jury.” 

            “I know,” says Ms. Malka, smoothing out her skirt. Amelia starts when she realizes that she’s in wizarding robes, rather than her traditional Muggle clothes. She doesn’t think she’s seen the Israeli woman wear anything _but_ Muggle clothes before, but then again, she’s only seen her five times in the past few days.  “I find it wise. Regulus would probably vote for innocence even if Sirius isn’t.”

            “I don’t recall Sirius and Regulus being close back during Hogwarts,” Amelia says, watching her words make Ms. Malka pause. “I may have been a Seventh Year when they’d been First and Second, but from what I’d known, they all but hated each other.”

            “Things change,” Ms. Malka says with a shrug. “Have a good day Madame Bones.”

            Amelia watches Ms. Malka shut the door, tapping her fingers against her desk. It had been bothering her since Regulus Black’s demand of a trial for his brother. Amelia knows that Regulus and Sirius hadn’t gotten along. That the younger brother had followed in family footsteps, while Sirius had seemingly rebelled. But now that seems to be getting ignored, with Regulus demanding the trial, wanting to see his brother fairly treated. She knows he doesn’t think his brother is a Death Eater, but then again… 

            Then again, neither is he. His arms are bare, and you can’t hide a Dark Mark.

* * *

 

            _This should have happened years ago._

            Minerva studies the courtroom, spotting Harry sitting with the Ron, Hermione, Arthur and Molly. Tonks sits behind them, supposed as a guard against anything unexpected happening. Harry had demanded to watch the trial, wanting to see what would happen. Hopefully his presence wouldn’t derail the trial. Then again, it may help in making sure everything goes smoothly.

            She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

            She should have gone to try and speak with Sirius when he’d been in Azkaban. She’d had so many questions for so long, but she’d never asked. She hadn’t demanded to be allowed to speak with Sirius, to demand that he’d been given a trial. She’d been too busy mourning Lily and James, worrying about Harry and Remus. She’d been too busy mourning to even truly celebrate Voldemort’s first defeat. 

            Even as distracted as she’d been, she should have questioned why Sirius had been given no trial. She should have asked _Albus._ As is, she still hasn’t gotten a good explanation out of him why he never did make the demand. Regulus’s accusations (which she’d had to hear secondhand from Molly, Albus didn’t even mention them to her) were correct. None of them, even the past two years knowing that Sirius was really innocent had done anything, had demanded a trial. Had claimed they’d found something that made them curious. 

            Minerva sighs, opening her eyes. Sirius had been one of her favorite students, all four of the Marauders had (she does wonder if the boys had ever realized she’d known exactly who the quartet of troublemakers were, though not about them being Animagi). She’d paid a great deal of attention to them, seeing them as accomplishing great things someday. Then Sirius seemingly became a traitor, James died, Remus couldn’t escape the stigma of what he is, and Peter became a traitor. 

            Nothing had gone right, but maybe that could now be fixed.  

* * *

 

            Regulus watches his brother be brought into the courtroom in chains, and barely keeps a scowl off his face and his expression even. He’d known the Aurors would have him in chains. Tonks and Shacklebolt had both warned him. He still doesn’t like it. He watches as Michael Duvanski, the barrister he’d hired, takes his position next to Sirius. The Ministry barrister stands opposite of them both, all three facing Madame Bones.

            “Stop glaring,” Esther murmurs, tapping him on the wrist.

            “Sorry,” he mumbles. He used to have better self-control, but since his resurrection that’s been shot.

            “This is the trial of one Sirius Black, for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and the betrayal of James and Lily Potter,” Madame Bones intones, Regulus paying closing attention. “At the request of Lord Regulus Black, this trial will be done with the accused under Veritaserum to make certain all claims are true. As is already agreed upon, if the accused is guilty, he shall be returned to Azkaban or given the Dementor’s Kiss. If the accused is innocent however, he shall go free and with the apologies of the Ministry.”

            _And he will,_ Regulus thinks, grunting slightly as Esther’s fingernails dig into wrist; he’d been glaring again.

            “Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour. Ministry Barrister Justin S Greengrass. Barrister for the Accused Michael Duvanski. The Accused, Sirius Black. All have been recognized by the court. Auror Scrimgeour, please test the Veritaserum,” Bones orders, her gaze briefly catching Regulus’s, or so it seems. “To prove the purity of the potion for the court.” 

            Scrimgeour picks up a small, clear potion bottle. According to Tonks, he’s an honorable, honest Auror. Regulus digs his fingers into the arms of his chair as Scrimgeour taps his wand against the vial, a puff of white smoke coming out of it. He’s never seen that before…Was that the test?

            “The Veritaserum is pure,” Scrimgeour says, voice firm. “With your permission, Madame Bones, I will give it to the accused, and the trial may start.”

            “You have my permission.”

            Scrimgeour gives Sirius the entire bottle, rather than just three drops. While three drops were the standard dose, an increased amount (well, up to a certain point) increased the likelihood of the truth being spoken. It is possible for someone to make themselves immune to Veritaserum, or at least highly resistant. However, overwhelmingly, at such a high dose of the potion it becomes even more difficult to deny the truth.

            Either way, not like Sirius wanted to keep lying.

            “Will the accused please state his full name?” 

            “My name is Sirius Orion Black, son of Walburga and Orion Black, brother of Regulus Arcturus Black, present Lord of House Black,” Sirius says, voice clear.   

            “Do you understand why you are here?” 

            “I’m here to face accusations that I murdered three of my best friends,” Sirius says, voice flat, and just a hint of a defiant glare.

            “Correct,” Bones says, nodding her head. Regulus can see a thoughtful glint in her eyes, but isn’t sure why. Sirius’s defiance? 

            “It’s clear that the accusations are correct though,” Greengrass blusters, ignoring the irritated looks on everyone else’s faces at his interruption. 

            “How is it clear it’s correct?” Duvanski drawls. “If anything, based on the so-called ‘justice’ of the Ministry, I’d say it’s clearly incorrect. Either way, you do get that the point of this trial is in part to question Mr. Black under Veritaserum? Or are you and the Ministry that afraid of the truth?”

            Regulus barely bites back his smirk and Esther doesn’t even bother. Now he gets why Esther had recommended Duvanski to him. Good at cutting through the bullshit indeed. And even better, someone who knew Esther’s Secret™. Regulus vaguely remembers Duvanski from Hogwarts; he’d been a Ravenclaw, but one cunning enough for Slytherin. He and Esther had met a couple years after the War, and Duvanski had figured out within the year about Esther’s immortality. Something about her getting shot by a Muggle. Everything about Duvanski though made it a good idea to have hired him. He trusted Esther, and had believed her that Sirius was innocent. 

            “Enough gentlemen,” Bones says warningly. “Or I will hold you in contempt.” 

            “My apologies Madame Bones,” Duvanski says with a slight bow. “I was simply… _displeased_ by Barrister Greengrass’s words. After all, the point of this trial is to prove or disprove my client’s innocence. It’s in very poor taste to attempt to prejudice the jury against him, especially due to Mr. Black’s history of being trapped in Azkaban with no trial, just public opinion against him.” 

            Oh yeah, he’s really happy he hired Michael. Hmmm...they do need a new family lawyer...

            “That is understandable,” Madame Bones says, nodding slightly. “And Barrister Duvanski does have a point Barrister Greengrass. Your attempts to prejudice the jury against Mr. Black with words I know Minster Fudge gave you, and don’t bother denying that, I overheard you both,” she says, raising a hand and narrowing her eyes at Greengrass as he attempts to deny that, “make me very, very unhappy right now. You may question the accused. You may not throw accusations around.” 

            “Apologies Madame Bones,” Greengrass says, face bright red. “It won’t happen again.” 

            “Now, let’s begin properly. Auror Scrimgeour, can you please explain why Mr. Black was imprisoned without a trial?”

            “Sirius Black was imprisoned without a trial because, as Barrister Greengrass pointed out, it appeared obvious that he was guilty. The Potters are now known to have been under a Fideleous Charm due to Voldemort hunting for them. It was believed that Mr. Black had been their Secret Keeper. On top of that, following the confrontation between Mr. Black and Peter Pettigrew, in which Pettigrew accused Mr. Black of betraying Lily and James Potter to Voldemort, only to be killed by Mr. Black, along with a number of Muggles on the street. As a result of all this, and due to the general chaos of following events, he was imprisoned without a trial,” Scrimgeour recites. “Based on the notes of my predecessor, Bartemius Crouch Senior, whose son turned out to be a Death Eater, the fact Mr. Black was a member of House Black, a famously Dark family was enough to convict him in his opinion anyway.”

            Sirius snorts, and it’s loud in the suddenly silent room. 

            “What’s so funny?” Greengrass growls, looking surprisingly angry. 

            “I didn’t know that Barty would have imprisoned me simply due to who my family is. Wonder how he would have reacted to Regulus being alive? Tried to kill him? Even while he’s being a hypocrite?” Sirius asks, more than a bit mockingly.

            The news about Crouch Senior had done, freed his Death Eater son only to keep him under house arrest had hit the news following the Triwizard Tournament. As Regulus recalls, it had been the excuse they’d used to explain Cedric Diggory’s death, that he’d made the Cup cursed and able to kill whoever touched it first.

            Not entirely wrong but not entirely right either. A lot like his ‘survival’. 

            “Mr. Black,” Madame Bones says warningly, but her lips are quirking up slightly.

            “So in other words,” Michael says, cutting off Greengrass before he can speak. “My client was purely convicted on public opinion and one man’s bigotry?” 

            “It’s obvious that he betrayed the Potters!” Greengrass snaps. “Who else would have been their Secret Keeper? Black was supposed to be their best friend. Who else would they trust their lives and their son to?” 

            “Dramatic,” Esther murmurs, sounding a bit amused. “He’s trying to turn the court’s opinion via drama.” 

            “The Crouch thing works against them,” he murmurs back. “Because it immediately clouds what happened, and some of the jury is now going to wonder if it was really due to the ‘obviousness’ that Sirius was imprisoned, or was it due to bias.”

            “You do get that they had more than one friend, right?” Michael drawls. 

            “Mr. Black,” Bones says, interrupting Michael and Greengrass before they can keep bickering. Scrimgeour is frowning slightly, but his expression seems distant, as if he’s thinking of something other than the trial, which is a bit weird. “Auror Scrimgeour has verified that the Veritaserum is pure. You have drunk the entire vial. You will tell the truth, and nothing but the truth?” 

            “Did she just quote the bloody Americans?” 

            “Hush Reggie.” 

            “Yes,” Sirius says, grey eyes firm. 

            “Did you betray the Potters?” 

            “No. I was never their Secret Keeper. We decided it would be too obvious,” Sirius says, ignoring the outbreak of murmurs from the jury and spectators. “As everyone keeps pointing out, who else but me would be the Secret Keeper? So we decided against that. It was seen as too big a risk.” His eyes close and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I suggested Pettigrew. No one would suspect him, because for all he’d been in Gryffindor he’d also been a coward. So the Charm was cast, and they were supposed to be safe.”

            “Then what happened?”

            “Peter betrayed them to Voldemort. He had betrayed the Light months earlier, convinced that the Voldemort and his Death Eaters were going to win. So he told Voldemort where to find them in Godric’s Hollow, and on Halloween they died. I was alerted by a security charm when the attack happened, but I arrived too late, only finding the house badly damaged and Harry crying in the wreckage. Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper of Hogwarts arrived soon after I did to take Harry. As his godfather, I had planned on taking Harry in, but I thought that for the moment it would be fine for Harry to go with Hagrid. He then gave Harry to Dumbledore, who left Harry with Lily’s sister Petunia, who raised him. 

            “After I gave Harry to Hagrid, I went after Pettigrew, planning on making him face justice. The second he saw me he ran. When I finally caught up to the rat bastard he screamed at me about ‘how could I betray Lily and James,’ as if he hadn’t been the one to do it. He knew that everyone would think I’d been the Secret Keeper and was doing his best to make sure that’s what everyone would think. As everyone here knows, we fought, but contrary to what reports said, I was not the one who blasted the street, killing all those Muggles, and Pettigrew did not die.”

            “Excuse me?” Bones demands, leaning forward. “And quiet in the court!” she adds, scowling at the sudden roar of voices. “I will Silencio you all if I need to. Mr. Black, what do you mean, Pettigrew didn’t die? The only thing found of him was his finger.”

            “While at Hogwarts, Pettigrew became an illegal Animagus, in the form of a rat. He was always good at Transfiguration, better than any other branch of magic,” Sirius says, murmurs starting up again in defiance of Bone’s order. “He used the blasting hex, severed his own finger, and turned into his Animagus form, escaping. Only minutes later I was arrested and imprisoned in Azkaban with no trial, and no one asking me what happened. 

            “When I escaped two years ago it was because I discovered Pettigrew was still alive and was determined to bring him to justice and earn my freedom. He had been at Hogwarts, disguised as a pet rat, belonging then to Ronald Weasley. I almost managed to catch him, but failed in the end. I barely escaped myself then, knowing that if I allowed myself to be capture by the Dementors that had been on Hogwart’s grounds at the time I would be Kissed and that then Pettigrew would never be caught. I’ve spent the past two years trying to find him again in hopes of gaining my freedom, until I read about Regulus’s demand for me to get a fair trial from the paper. Then I turned myself in.” 

            Sirius had told him the story already. About what had happened that awful night. They’d even gotten drunk a few nights ago and his brother had told him a bit about being trapped in Azkaban. It had taken all his control to not wake Esther up and ask her to burn the bloody hellhole down with Fiendfyer. Not like there’s anything there that would be missed. Sirius is already out. 

            “That entire story is ridiculous,” Greengrass says dismissively. “Madame Bones, you know that entire story sounds absurd. Mr. Black is obviously lying to avoid having to go back to Azkaban and face the Dementor’s Kiss he should have been given years ago. Veritaserum isn’t foolproof, everyone here knows that. It’s perfectly possible to immunize yourself to it, and if you’ve got a strong enough will you can completely ignore it.”

            “He was given an entire fucking vial,” Esther hisses incredulously. “Almost no one immunizes themselves to that amount!” 

            “When exactly would that have happened?” Michael asks, giving Greengrass a flat look. “In the more than decade he spent in Azkaban? The past two years he’s spent on the run, with no reason to think he’d need to immunize himself? Veritaserum immunization requires constant upkeep. It’s a controlled potion, and hard to make. Improper brewing can kill both the maker and the consumer. Besides, that was an entire bloody vial of the stuff.” 

            “We all know that not all Death Eaters were arrested. Enough managed to go into hiding,” Greengrass says coolly. “One of them could have given him Veritaserum until he built an immunity and could do this. We all know it’s the…”

            Again he’s cut off, but this time it’s not by Bones or Michael.

            Sirius is laughing, borderline hysterically and more than a little mad sounding, and the room is now silent, only his laughter audible.

* * *

 

            “You know what expression that’s really, really starting to piss me off?” Sirius asks, a bit breathless from his laughter, and he can’t help it. He can’t help but laugh at the absurd situation. Because really? _Bloody fucking **really**_? “’We all know it’s the truth.’” 

            He stares Amelia straight in the eyes.

            “I am under Veritaserum. I came here _willingly_ , trusting that I would be given a fair trial. If I was a Death Eater, or a supporter of Voldemort, do you really think I’d been insane enough to do that? I’m bloody well aware public opinion is against me. I’m bloody well aware how many of you walked in here today with no intention of listening to what I have to say. 

            “Even if I was immune to Veritaserum, _which I’m not_ , just based on that alone I never would have shown up. Bloody fucking hell, I’m regretting it enough right now. It’s miserable being on the run, but this hypocrisy is worse.”

            “My client is correct,” Duvanski says quietly, voice echoing in the still silent room. “We were promised a fair trial. The more I stand here, the more I listen to Barrister Greengrass, the more I feel that that’s being denied. The Ministry argument comes down to this. ‘Because this is something I believe, that means it’s right!’ Yes, Veritaserum can circumvented. But it’s bloody hard to do, and even if done, you can see hints that they’ve done it.” 

            “That is correct Barrister Duvanski,” Amelia says, brown eyes studying Sirius closely. “Auror Scrimgeour, what are the signs of attempted Veritaserum immunization?” 

            “Unusual pauses in speaking or things being said out of order. Body language can be overly tense with trying to hold back the truth, but that can sometimes be confused with nerves from being questioned. Mr. Black has shown none of these signs, in my professional opinion.”

            “So you would say that the Veritaserum is working on Mr. Black?” Amelia asks, and she has to know how much credence the jury would put on Scrimgeour’s words. 

            “Yes. In my professional opinion, everything Sirius Black has said here today is true,” Scrimgeour says, clasping his hands behind him. “I would stake my magic on it.” 

            The room is full of a flurry of murmurs again and stunned expressions. Both Regulus and Esther are giving Scrimgeour startled looks. Then again, so is he. The man is staking his Merlin-blessed magic on this? Wow.

            He suddenly likes Scrimgeour much more. 

            Amelia nods her head slowly, thoughtfully. She looks around the room, ignoring the murmurs and shouts filling it. She nods her head against and stands.

            “The trial is over. Now the jury shall convene and decide on the innocence or guilt of Sirius Black,” she orders. 

            Sirius closes his eyes. 

            Please. Please let him go free.

* * *

 

            An hour later the jury steps back into the room and Cornelius feels him stomach drop. The look on their faces…no. No. No. No. _No_. They aren’t going to say it, are they? 

            Sirius Black needs to stay imprisoned or given the Dementor’s Kiss. He doesn’t care if the man is innocent or not, he can’t go free. It’ll be a stain on his term as Minister if that happens, and completely destroy his chances of winning in the next election. It could even force him to step down. Right now his popularity is high, especially with the recent lowering of opinion in relation to Dumbledore.

            All that bloody blather about He Who Must Not Be Named’s ‘return’. He’s not a fool, the Dark Lord is dead. It has to be a lie, like Sirius Black’s innocence.

            At least with Dolores being set up to be Hogwart’s High Inquistor already he can do something to regain control of Hogwarts. Well, the Ministry has never really been in control of the school, but it should. Dumbledore is just using it to build himself an army of loyal students who will overthrow the Ministry and allow himself to take over (he ignores the little voice that points out that Dumbledore doesn’t want his position, because who _wouldn’t_ want to be Minister of Magic? Who wouldn’t want the power?). Pity they couldn’t get her in as a Professor, but hopefully she could pressure professors into teaching only theory…

            “Has the jury decided?” Amelia asks, startling him out of his thoughts. Oh hell, it’s time. 

            “We have,” a woman he recognizes as Meredith Abbot. He thinks her niece is presently at Hogwarts. She’s a potion master of some fame, as he recalls.

            “The decision?” 

            “On all counts, Sirius Black has been declared innocent. He should be freed immediately, with Ministry apologies and restitution.”

            Oh bloody Merlin’s shaggy _balls_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I'm aware trials don't go like that, leave me alone. 
> 
> So Sirius is finally free, and certain other balls are now rolling. 
> 
> Any thoughts?


	7. Aftermath

 

            “Your wand, Mr. Black.” 

            _Red oak with a dragon heartstring, eleven inches._  

            Sirius studies his wand, the wand he’d chosen that wonderful day in Diagon Alley so long, long ago and picks it up with reverent, trembling fingers. He’d given his wand up as destroyed within a week of being in Azkaban. But it hadn’t been. They’d simply stored it, as if waiting for something.

            Maybe this?

            “Thank you,” he says hoarsely, looking up and meeting Kingsley’s warm smile. He feels complete in a way even Remus can’t make him feel.           

            “Wands of imprisoned wizards are rarely destroyed,” he says, answering Sirius’s silent question. “While expelled students immediately lose their wands, criminals, even permanent prisoners of Azkaban don’t lose theirs.”

            “While good in this case, that seems kind of dumb,” Regulus comments, studying some document Madame Bones had handed him, along with Esther and Michael. Sirius suspects it’s a possible restitution offer. “For individuals who earned life sentences to have their wands remain undestroyed, I mean.”

            “In the past wands that belonged to prisoners with shorter stays were destroyed by mistake, so it was decided that all wands would remain intact,” Kingsley explains. “On top of that, it’s not uncommon for wizards to have wands that are family legacies. In those cases, we try to give them back to their families.” 

            “Odd…” Esther murmurs, so low Sirius can barely hear her, but he ignores that. Whatever’s strange in the restitution agreement he’ll see later.

            Sirius ignores all of them, and simply focuses on his wand.

            Wands, perfectly fitted, are an extension of self. Even an ill-fitted wand, as he recalls, can be considered an extension of a wizard, but not an extension of self. He hadn’t really gotten it then, but he does now. He’d been forced to rely on borrowed wands or wandless magic since his escape, and none of the borrowed wands could compare.

            Not to this feeling of completion. 

            “Sirius, you look like you’re about to have an orgasm. Stop. Wait till you and Remus speak at least for that,” Regulus says, smirking at him.

            “I hate you.” Feeling, gone. Dead like Regulus used to be.

            “Really Reggie?” Esther sighs, giving his younger brother an unimpressed look. “I know younger siblings enjoying ruining things, but really?”

            “How would you…never mind,” Regulus sighs, pouting at both of them, reminding Sirius of Regulus at age two and being denied sweets. “Sirius has his wand. We have the first draft of the Ministry’s restitution offer, which is ridiculously pathetic and requires more compensation at the very least.”

            “Which I will put together a second draft and have it sent to you in the morning,” Duvanski adds, slipping the papers into his bag. “You deserve better. I suspect the Ministry will be willing to give whatever you request. The entire situation is a massive embarrassment for them and we all know they want to shove it under the rug. Fudge is up for reelection next year and he’ll be trying to get on both of your good sides after this debacle.”

            “Bloody fat chance of that,” Regulus mutters, Sirius silently agreeing. 

            “Who’s he up against?” Esther asks, head tilting slightly in what Sirius knows is curiosity. 

            “Scrimgeour.”

            “Definitely has my vote over Fudge,” Sirius snorts. Scrimgeour had definitely been helpful during the trial. The fact he’d staked his magic on him being innocent… 

            Definitely a true Gryffindor. 

            “Same,” Regulus agrees with a faint grin. 

            All four of them leave, with Duvanski leaving them with a respectful nod. He lived in Berkshire, and had made a comment about needing to check something in his office. Maybe another case?

            “So,” Regulus says, clasping his hand together and ignoring Fudge’s efforts to get their attention. “Let’s head to the Burrow so you can ‘meet’ Harry.”

            “Let’s,” Sirius says, smiling slightly and following his brother into the sunlight, Esther following after them both.

            It’s good to be free again.

                           

* * *

 

            “He’s free,” Harry says, sprawled on the worn couch, legs half on Ron’s lap. Hermione is curled up on a chair and grinning at them both. “He’s finally free.” 

            “Finally,” Ron agrees, grinning back at them both.

            It had felt like it would never happen. That until Voldemort was defeated, until Pettigrew got caught, that Sirius would never get his named cleared. Instead, because of Regulus getting resurrected meant that they could. That he could demand a trial (and Harry still doesn’t entirely get it, something to do with the Black’s actually being a literal noble family and politically a problem to ignore Regulus’s demands).

            “So what are you guys going to do next? Is he going to be at Hogwarts like Esther and Regulus are?” Hermione asks, curious. 

            “Maybe?” Harry says with a slight shrug. He didn’t even entirely understand the whole ‘scholar-in-residence’ thing that Regulus was doing, but Hermione had guessed that it was Dumbledore’s way of keeping track of both Esther and Regulus. “But I don’t…” he twists around as he hears the door open, and he knows exactly who it is.           

            Harry lunges at Sirius, hugging his godfather tightly the second the man steps into the living room of the Burrow. Everyone had said it was a good idea to not make their ‘first’ meeting public, since he’s a shite actor and he’d never be able to pretend that didn’t already know Sirius was innocent. That he was innocent, deserved to go free and now…

            He remembers Sirius’s promise from Third Year. That he’d take him away from the Dursley’s. Yes, according to Professor McGonagall he couldn’t actually do that due to the blood protection, but, but…at least Sirius could care for him, and everyone could see it. 

            Sirius is hugging him back just as tightly, and Harry can hear a quiet coo from Mrs. Weasley and soft laugh from what he thinks is Esther. But he doesn’t care, and just presses closer to Sirius because he’s finally here. He’s finally okay.

            “Hey kiddo,” Sirius says, kissing the top of his head.

            “Hey,” Harry says back, half muffled by Sirius’s shirt. “So you’re really safe now?” Because the Ministry is the Ministry and…

            “I don’t think anyone is idiotic enough to try to go legally after Sirius for anything, even his escape from Azkaban,” Esther says with a snort.

            “No, no, Fudge could be that stupid, but I don’t think Bones or Scrimgeour would listen to him,” Regulus replies, shaking his head. “After all, the Minister can’t actually order an arrest. As is, Kingsley said to me Fudge is actually in a lot of trouble over the whole, immediately having a Dementor Kiss Crouch following the Triwizard Tournament,” he adds. “It’s possibly part of what he was so willing to do the trial.” 

            “Well, that and he thought I’d be convicted,” Sirius says, hugging Harry a bit more tightly. 

            “I think everyone but the Order and us thought that,” Hermione points out. “So, it’s not too illogical.”

            “And it’s not like the Ministry likes getting told ‘no, you’re wrong’, based on the trial,” Regulus says, leaning against a wall. “Hell, Greengrass’s arguments, beyond the immunity to Veritaserum were stupid and basically trying to convict Sirius with public opinion, not facts.”

            “Which Bones wasn’t letting happen,” Sirius says, finally breaking the hug. “Or Scrimgeour, and that still is kind of a surprise.” 

            “He had a good sense of honor,” Esther says, a hint of approval to her voice. “And a rather firm faith in Veritaserum. I’m very curious if the Ministry is going to jump on the opportunity the trial presented.” 

            “What?” Harry says, even as Hermione gasps quietly, as if realizing something. 

            “They let a lot of people go since they claimed they were under the Imperious, but they never asked while using Veritaserum. But they probably won’t do it, because too many of them ‘support’ Fudge,” she says, grimacing. 

            “They may,” Sirius says. “Just because Bones may force it to happen. She’s still the head of her Department, and she’s too popular for Fudge to sack.” 

            “But anyway,” Sirius says, grinning. “Let’s celebrate.”

* * *

 

            _Black went free. Black went **bloody free.**_

Severus doesn’t really care that Black was innocent of the crime of killing Lily. That he’d never killed those Muggles. He’d almost killed _him_ , and Black had never faced any punishment. Dumbledore had known what had happened, and Black hadn’t even gotten a slap on the wrist. If Potter hadn’t interfered, Lupin would have killed him.

            Black deserved Azkaban. 

            Severus tries very hard to ignore his own hypocrisy. He’d killed a number of people as a loyal Death Eater and had avoided punishment due to Albus’s protection. But he’d also been the one to let Albus know Voldemort was going after Lily and Potter (but Lily would never have been in danger had he not told Voldemort the prophesy). He’d told Albus all the secrets he’d known as a Death Eater.

            Shouldn’t that be enough? 

            But… 

            He knows how much Regulus is disgusted by him, even if he doesn’t entirely get it. They’d both turned on Voldemort in the end. Did Regulus think he was better than him just because he’d died? He hadn’t even succeeded in destroying that Horcrux! But he hadn’t succeeded in saving Lily either…

            Severus shakes his head, going back to scowling at the paper. Black would be at Hogwarts for the school year. He could figure the man out then. He’d be away from his brother, and they both had been Slytherin’s. They’d be able to come to some sort of agreement. 

            They’re too alike not to.

* * *

 

            Lucius shivers under the Great Lord’s furious gaze, trying very hard to avoid further angering him. But his failures to get Regulus’s attention, his failure to prevent Black from getting declared innocent are going to haunt him for a while. He’d impressed upon Fudge the importance of getting the conviction, but he’d underestimated Duvanski, Bones and Scrimgeour. _Bloody Gryffindors and Ravenclaws_ , he grumbles to himself.

            On top of that, he still hadn’t managed to get his hands on Esther Malka’s application for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship. As the head of the school board he should have at least seen it, but Dumbledore had been coy over it, still refusing to hand it out, even though he’d done so for almost every other professor. The only other he hadn’t had been with Lupin, and that had probably been to hide that his status as a werewolf. 

            It’s obvious there’s something going on with Malka, but he can’t find out what. It’s not like any of them had very many (if any) contacts in the Israeli magical community.

            “You have failed me Lucius,” the Great Lord says, voice more an inhuman hiss than anything else. “Black is free. A complete unknown will be at Hogwarts. Regulus Black has apparently turned on us, and you’ve done nothing to prevent it.”

            “Regulus will also be at Hogwarts this year,” Lucius says, plans spinning in his head. “Something about a new ‘scholar-in-residence’ Dumbledore had been planning, and the entire school board has agreed to do it. It will be easier to keep an eye on him, and this Esther Malka.” An especial necessity with her mysterious friendship with Regulus. Their story about where Regulus had been is suspicious, as is her apparently befriending a Muggle. Hadn’t Israel signed the Statue of Secrecy? “I can turn him back to us while there Great Lord.” 

            “You had better. Do not fail me again Lucius, or else you will face greater punishment,” the Great Lord says, looming over him. An unpleasant smile forms on his Master’s face and then… 

            _“Crucio.”_

* * *

 

            Esther sits under a tree, watching as Sirius, Regulus and Harry gleefully level Black Manor. The building had been less decrepit than 12 Grimmauld Place, but not by much. On top of that, in contrast to 12 Grimmauld Place, the building was on its own land (almost 10 acres, and she can’t begin to understand how nearby Muggles didn’t realize such a large parcel of land is simply _missing)._ Since it was on its own land (and not needed as a headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix), they could destroy and rebuild to their hearts’ content. 

            Destroy and rebuild, create a new beginning and get new, happier memories. 

            She’d declined Regulus’s offer to help them wreck the building, not really feeling much interest in it. Yes, she enjoys setting things on fire. Yes, she does enjoy destroying things, especially things that annoy her. This though, this she could really give less than two shits about. Instead, she’s got a glass of good, Israeli wine, a Mount Hermon White, and time to think without interruptions.

            There are definitely multiple Horcruxes, and they needed to find them sooner, rather than later, but she can’t even imagine where or what they could be. Regulus had theorized that they could be other Slytherin artifacts, which would make sense. The snake fucker after all was obsessed with his ancestor. The only issue with that theory though, is none of them had any clue what other heirlooms there could be. Maybe the Gaunt family ring? Maybe something over at…eh, she isn’t entirely sure Voldemort even knew Ilvermorny was founded by another branch of the Slytherin family. Never had made any sort of move toward the school during the first war after all. On top that, she’d never heard rumors about them having anything of Slytherin’s. The only vaguely suspicious thing there was that weird snakewood tree.

            Seeing as the last she’d seen of that tree a decade ago when consulting something in the school’s library it had been perfectly healthy, she doubts Voldemort did anything to it. On top of that, the fucker had never seemed terribly interested in actions beyond British shores.

            She frowns up at the sky.

            Kreacher had overheard Dumbledore theorizing with a few other Order members that other Horcruxes could be heirlooms relating to the other Hogwarts Founders. That also strikes her as incredibly probable, since according to Regulus the snake fucker had been obsessed with Hogwarts. Based on Dumbledore’s explanation of a bit of the History of Tom Riddle, Hogwarts had been the first real home (or at least Riddle had thought) for Voldemort. How it had struck anyone as intelligent to send a bitter, abused boy back to a hellhole of an orphanage that he’d obviously hated mystifies her. Then again, the Hogwarts administration did seem to give less than a rat’s ass about Slytherin students.

            She **still** wants an explanation for how the hell Voldemort hadn’t ended up an Obscurial like Credence Barebone with how bad his childhood had been. 

            “What’re you thinking about?” Harry asks her, jerking her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t noticed the sounds of destruction ending, and now where Black Manor had been there’s only ash.

            “How many Horcruxes Voldemort could have made and what they could be,” she admits, watching all three men sit down. With a flick of her wand she fills three more wine glasses and passes them to them. 

            “I’m underage,” Harry points out. 

            “So?” she asks, not particularly caring. For most of history there hadn’t been restrictions on how old you had to be to drink, and she finds it ridiculous that there are now. 

            “Remus isn’t here, it’s fine,” Sirius says, taking a sip of his. “Besides, you know Butterbeer has a bit of alcohol in it, right?”

            “ _Anyway_ ,” Regulus says, cutting off Harry. “We do need to figure that out soon. I’m going to guess that there’s probably six remaining; seven is too powerful a number to ignore, and while thirteen is stronger, I don’t think even the snake fucker is insane enough to have done that many.”

            “What does a Horcrux even look like?” Harry asks. 

            “It can look like pretty much anything,” Esther explains, a bit surprised Hermione hadn’t researched and told him that. She knows the girl had been looking into it. “Any physical object could be made a Horcrux. You commit a murder, and then while the soul is somewhat shattered form doing so, you attach it to the object. Or at least that’s from what I’ve heard,” she adds. “I’ve never understood how or why someone would do that. People who want to be immortal are insane.”

            Esther ignores the sympathy in Regulus’s eyes. He knows exactly how much she hates being immortal. 

            “Creepy,” Harry says with a shudder, and then a thoughtful look. “Back during Second year, Ron, Hermione, me, and Ginny came across a diary belonging to Voldemort from when he was in Hogwarts. It had what seemed to be a school aged version of Voldemort in it,” Harry says, slowly, thoughtfully, and _Hashem_ , is he saying what she thinks he is? “It possessed Ginny, making her open the Chamber of Secrets and unleashed a basilisk on the school. It didn’t kill anyone, but at the end of the year it possessed Ginny into the Chamber and Ron and I chased after, trying to save her. Hermione had been petrified by it about a month earlier,” he adds.

            “Ron got trapped outside the Chamber in the end with a broken arm, and I confronted Ginny and Voldemort. I ended up fighting against the basilisk, using Gryffindor’s sword to kill it, but then I almost got killed by basilisk venom since I got bitten.” _Astarte’s blessings what!?!?_ “But Fawke’s, Dumbledore’s phoenix healed me and when Riddle was taunting me, thinking I was going to die, I used a broken bit of the basilisk’s fang and destroyed the diary. It bled ink like it was blood and was really, really creepy,” Harry says, finishing his story.

            “Harry. _Harry, that was a bloody Horcrux_ ,” Regulus says, more than a bit faint, and so is she and she can tell with a glance at Sirius that he feels the same way. 

            “What?” 

            “You destroyed a Horcrux,” Sirius says, giving Harry a proud grin and a hug.

            “Two down and probably five to go,” Regulus says with a hum, but he’s grinning two, and she smiles into her wine. 

            Five to go, Sirius free, and Black Manor burnt down and ready to be rebuilt. Yes, definitely a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sorry for the delay, this chapter simply did not want to work  
> 2\. Hashem is a fairly common term for G-d used in Israel and in more religious communities. In Jewish belief you aren't supposed to use the name of G-d.   
> 3\. Astarte is a Canaaitite goddess, who's dominion was sex, fertility and war. She was their equivalent to the goddess Ishtar.  
> 4\. Ilvermorny really as founded by a descendent of Slytherin's. Isolt Sayre was a blood traitor who married a Muggle (who in fact helped her found the school, along with their two oldest). She stole Slytherin's wand from her Aunt, a Dark Witch, and following her Aunt's defeat buried it on what would become Ilvermorny's grounds; from there grew the weird snakewood tree.  
> 5\. Sirius's wand is not described in canon, and the wand mentioned here is one I spent several hours and put a lot of thought into.   
> 6\. If you have any questions or thoughts, feel free to say them!


	8. A New Year

            She’s still not sure why she’d decided to listen to Regulus about taking the Hogwarts Express. It did let them keep an eye on Harry and his friends, but she’d been planning on having more time to prepare for things at Hogwarts itself. It’s a bit boring too; Regulus had dozed off almost an hour ago.                          

            Also, she fucking hates trains. She blames the time she took Shinkasen and vomited. 

            The aesthetic was rather nice though. Pretty steam engine rushing through the countryside on a train track that doesn’t exist. She is always curious about why Europe adopted certain bits and pieces of Muggle technology, but not others. She’d gotten a look at Harry’s shopping list and she still wants an explanation why they’re using quills and ink rather than ballpoint pens. So much less danger of spillage.

            Then again, if it seems like an efficient way to do something, Europe frequently seems terrified of it. Certain areas were certainly better than others, but bloody England…bless the permits Regulus had bullied out of the Ministry. Otherwise her research would be delayed by at least a year, and she’s not in the mood to deal with Aram and Chava’s whining. 

            “You okay? You look constipated,” Regulus says, startling her from her thoughts; she hadn’t even noticed him wake up.

            “I’m fine. Just contemplating the absurdity that is you guys using quills,” she says with a shrug, turning her attention to him. “Glad I can bring my computer with me. Writing would be a pain otherwise.”

            “You’re a bit too reliant on technology.” 

            “And you’re a bit too afraid. The microwave wasn’t going to bite you Reggie.” 

            “If Kreacher tells me not to touch something in the kitchen, I trust him over you.”

            “I’m just fine in the kitchen.” 

            “You once set water on fire Esther. _Water_.”

            “Oh piss off Reggie, you can’t even cook. And you know damn well that I did that because one of the Weasley twins hexed the pot. I’ve been cooking for over three thousand years.” 

            “Esther, your cooking is bloody near inedible. You’re literally only good at potions because of practice, and have even admitted that you can’t really experiment with them,” Regulus points out, rolling his eyes at her. 

            “I’ve never really felt a need to,” she says, rolling her eyes back at him. “I like spell and rune work, you know tha…” 

            _Slam!_

“I’m almost afraid to find out,” Regulus mutters under his breath, both of them staring at the slightly vibrating door from whoever slammed into it.

            “Sorry!” shouts a muffled voice. “Ach! Trevor! Get back here!” The sound of someone running off rings through the compartment and both of them just exchange looks. 

            “If that wasn’t Alice and Frank’s kid I’ll kiss Snape,” Regulus mutters again, obviously remembering the story Harry had told them about how he’d met Hermione, and through her Neville Longbottom.

            “Please don’t, you don’t know where he’s been. Probably kissing Voldemort’s arse,” Esther says, wrinkling her nose.

            “You’re not wrong,” Regulus says, unthinkingly rubbing his now-bare arm.

            Hey, she’d had his soul in her hands. She’d never have allowed that bloody lich to have any hold on Regulus, not when she could drag it off of him.

            “Almost there,” he warns. “Ready?” 

            “Let’s do this,” she says, a slight smirk on her face. 

            _This,_ she thinks, _is going to be a very interesting year for Hogwarts._

* * *

 

             Draco studies the Head Table, looking at the new faces. His Father had given him forewarning on Umbridge, but he’s going to complain to him that he didn’t adequately explain just how hideous she really is. She looked like a toad in too much pink, and not even a shade that looked good on her. But she’s really not who interests him. Not even with her new power as the so-called Hogwarts High Inquisitor. 

            His cousin, Regulus Black looks both exactly like and nothing like how he imagined him. As he’d noticed in the pictures taken after Sirius Black had been declared innocent, both brothers looked very similar. The only real difference is that Regulus is much healthier looking, though oddly pale for someone who’d been living in a desert. Both from covert photos taken for the gossip pages favored Muggle clothes, likely in Regulus’s case a habit from over a decade living like one, according to his Mother.

            But there’s an almost lazy ease to the way his cousin sits. Completely comfortable next to the new Defense Against Dark Arts Professor, whose name he can’t remember and just as completely ignoring Uncle Severus (it’s always hard to remember to call him ‘Snape’ at school). Neither seem perturbed to be in front of almost a thousand students but…his eyebrows shoot up as he spots the woman tap her glass with her index finger, and then Regulus’s. What had she just transformed their drinks to?

            Then Dumbledore stands up, and this year he knows better than to miss anything the old coot says.

            “Welcome to a new year! As always, the Forbidden Forest is off limits, and leaving the grounds just as forbidden. This year we have several exciting new opportunities,” and with this Dumbledore smiles, but there feels like there’s something strange to it. Something false, which is bizarre. “Professor Esther Malka of Yeshiva Meor will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Along with that, for the first time, Hogwarts will be having a scholar-in-residence. Lord Regulus Black, the recently returned Head of House Black has accepted the offer to be Hogwarts’ first scholar.” 

            Draco frowns just a bit at that. Father had been vague over how Dumbledore had pushed that through, but he thinks the Great Lord had wanted it too. Easier to get a hold of Regulus supposedly. He’d ignored every message his Father had sent him, and any efforts his Mother had made to get in touch with him.

            The Muggle clothes, the strange Israeli woman who’s always with him… 

            “Hem, Hem,” says a grating voice, and it’s the toad-looking Ministry woman, who’s words Draco promptly ignores. His Father had already told him what she’ll be up to after all and… 

            He spots the faint smirks on both Malka and Regulus’s faces, and something about them make the hair on the back of his neck go up. Now that he thinks about it, just _why_ did those two agree to come to Hogwarts? What did they want with the school?

            Draco really doesn’t like not knowing. Not with how strangely his cousin is apparently acting. Not the Great Lord recently returned. An error of information could easily get himself, or his parents killed.

            He had his orders. Make contact with his cousin, and verify his loyalty to the Great Lord. He doesn’t know exactly why _he_ has to do it instead of Uncle Severus, but it should be easy enough. He does this, and he’ll prove himself to both his parents and the Great Lord. Draco knows the only reason he doesn’t have his Dark Mark yet is because he’s a bit too young (in his Mother’s opinion). But succeeding in this could allow him the honor of having the Dark Mark.

            _And it is an honor_ , he reminds himself, continuing to ignore Umbridge’s speech and Pansy’s efforts to get his attention. **_It is_**.

* * *

 

            Regulus is grateful Dumbledore offered him and Esther a suite that shares a common room. He thinks it’s actually the old Headboy and Headgirl quarters, the one rumored to have a few too many…incidents, between whoever it was that year. Why exactly anyone though putting two hormonal teens in the same shared suite while opposite genders would end well is anyone’s guess.  Like, with him and Esther it didn’t matter, since he’s gay and according to her anyway she does her best to avoid romantic or sexual entanglements with people she knew as teens or younger anyway.

            “So…likelihood Umbridge is going to need an ‘accident’ before the year is up?” Esther says, sipping another glass of wine. She’d changed their pumpkin juice to wine during the Feast after almost spitting it out. According to her pumpkin juice is revolting. 

            “High,” Regulus says, yawning while he stretches. “She’s going to be a complete pain in the arse. I suspect with your class she’s going to try and interfere the most, especially if that rumor Arthur heard is true.”

            “What, that Fudge is convinced that Dumbledore is raising an army of students to overthrow the Ministry and is equally convinced that the claims of the snake fucker’s return are meant to ensure they’ll do it?” Esther asks, snorting slightly. “Oh yeah. Without a doubt it is. Why else would they be interfering here, based on the school’s history? Like, they didn’t do shit when they had a literal murder on campus.” 

            “To be fair, things have been going to hell more frequently,” he says, feeling he has to point it out. 

            “That’s because you’re fucking major Dark threat finally popped up again from wherever he fucked off in the Balkans. Like…can you imagine what would have happened if he’d reappeared _before_ Harry got to Hogwarts? Actually, wait, never mind. He was kind of useless until the end of last school year, wasn’t he?” she says thoughtfully.

            “Yeah…it’s definitely unfortunate that Siri didn’t manage to kill or capture Pettigrew two years ago,” Regulus says with a sigh. That would have at least held this off a bit longer. Cedric Diggory would still be alive too.

            He really doesn’t like children dying. Esther had already explained that she can’t bring the Hufflepuff champion back, not with how public his death had been.

            “Least he failed at getting his hand on the Philosopher’s Stone,” Regulus adds, ignoring the way Esther snorts. He knows how little she respects Flammel for having created that.

            “But yeah, we need to plan on what to do about Umbridge. On top of that, we really need to figure out what to do about Death Eaters’ kids trying to get ahold of you,” Esther says, frowning as she looks into her wine. “I sincerely doubt the Malfoy’s at least didn’t order their son to do something.”

            “Oh, doubtlessly,” Regulus agrees. He almost regrets not meeting with Narcissa at least before the start of the school year, but oh well. He’s pretty sure Esther would have tagged along and tried to seduce her.

            He really, really needs to find her a girlfriend or at least wingman her into sex with someone not related to him.

            “Please stop thinking about my sex life.” 

            “Merlin’s saggy balls, we’ve talked about you using Legimency on me Esther!” 

            “Think quieter then.”

            “I hate you.” 

            “Lies.” 

            “I want a new best friend.” 

            “Even more lies. You do need a fuck buddy yourself though. What about that cute Auror? Shacklebolt?” 

            _“Esther.”_

* * *

          Hermione curls up in a common room chair, unable to sleep. Normally she’s exhausted after getting back to Hogwarts, and she’d expected to be even more tired than normal after having her first proper day as a prefect. But instead, she’s wide awake, and not even able to stay comfortable in her own bed. So instead, common room and a good book. _Hogwarts, A History_ had never let her down before, but maybe she should have accepted Regulus’s offer of that book on the Kiev Wards… 

            “Hermione?”

            “Ginny!” Hermione yelps, almost falling off her chair. “What are you doing awake?” 

            “Couldn’t sleep,” she says with a shrug, curling up in the chair opposite of Hermione. “Too busy worrying, especially after Percy’s letters.” 

            Hermione snorts at the mention of Percy’s letters. She’s…disappointed in him, to tell the truth. That he’d almost immediately abandon his family for political favor. Then again, after witnessing the debacle that had been Sirius’s trial, and the way they were attempting to pretend Voldemort hadn’t returned even with all the evidence, she isn’t as surprised as she wants to be.

            Her Mum had once teased her over how idealistic she could be.

            “Don’t,” Hermione says firmly. “Trust in Dumbledore and the Order. Think about better things. Like Luna.”

            Ginny flushes as almost as red as her hair at the reminder of her girlfriend.

            “Then maybe instead of worrying you should think about Victor’s letters,” she retorts, smirking a bit. “How was Bulgaria last month?”

            “Fun,” she says, grateful that her skin is dark enough that her blush is hard to see. “We had a lot of fun.” Though Fleur’s arrival had been a surprise, but still fun.

            She still isn’t entirely sure where that will be going, but…she curls up more tightly, blushing even darker and hoping Ginny can’t tell.

            “Oh???” Ginny says, perking up. “What are you thinking of? You’re acting like I did after I kissed Luna this summer.” 

            “He showed me around his family’s estate and introduced me to a lot of people, including his teammates. He also, well…” she curls up even more tightly, and the position is almost painful. “Fleur was there.” She knows she’ll probably slip up later, might as well admit the other woman had been there.

            “Fleur? As in the gorgeous Beauxbatans’ Champion?” Ginny asks, eyes wide. “Why was she there? I didn’t think they knew each other before the Tournament.” 

            “They hadn’t,” Hermione says, desperately hoping her blush will fade soon. “But they decided to keep in touch with each other and me after the competition.”

            “Why would they…” Ginny stiffens and gives Hermione a wide eye look. “Hermione…you aren’t dating them both, right?”

            “So, you introduced Harry and Neville to Luna?” Hermione says, trying to change the topic. “Actually, I’m sleepy now! Going to go to bed!”

            “Hermione, get back here! Are you dating them both or not! _Hermione_!” 

            “Goodnight!”

* * *

           Blaise Zabini neatly folds up the letter from his Mum, biting back a sigh. Another stepfather dead. _Lovely_. How no one ever questions what his Mum is doing to them mystifies him. How does no one find it strange that seven have died in less than twenty years? A few of the early ones could be brushed off as due to the war but… 

            “So you lot are Fifth Year Slytherins?” Professor Malka says, sitting on the edge of her desk. “Excellent. If you’re not, please get out and go to whatever class you’re supposed to be in at the moment. Time to traumatize you will come later.”

            _What?_

“What?” he asks, a bit weakly. Can’t Dumbledore hire a normal person to be the Defense Professor?

            “What?” she parrots, looking amused. “Regardless! I am Esther Malka. I will be your professor for the next year. As the Headmaster mentioned during last night’s speech, I am a scholar from Yeshiva Meor in Israel, as well as a consultant on Dark Magic for the Israeli magical government. I will be making it so that you make it through your OWLs this year and survive to adulthood.” 

            “ _What_?” Blaise repeats, more loudly because what in the bloody name of Merlin? 

            “You had a student killed on campus last year,” she says, looking even more amused. “On top of that, based on what’s been happening for the past few years at this school, I would say learning more… _practical_ , defense, would be wise.”

            “Why come teach some place if you think it’s dangerous?” Malfoy asks.

            “Because I’m bored and this seemed more entertaining,” Professor Malka drawls. “Next question.” 

            “Are you really friends with Lord Black?” Parkinson asks, apparently taking their professor’s joke seriously. 

            “Yes. I’ve known Reggie for over a decade. Assumed he was just one of the Muggles who lived in Tzfat, but as recent events proved, that’s incorrect. When he came to deal with the debacle your Ministry had managed to make with his brother’s life, I decided to join him.”

            “Why were you interacting with Muggles?” someone else asks, and Blaise can’t quite place the voice. Maybe Greengrass? 

            “Israel’s Magical and Muggle community pretty heavily interact. While Israel is a signature of the Statute of Secrecy, we don’t completely isolate our communities. For example, one of the premier institutes for advanced magical research in the world is located at the Technion in Haifa, which is also a Muggle university,” Professor Malka says, smiling. “In fact, I’m working on a project concerning conversion of Muggle technology for magical usage and running some tests here at Hogwarts.”

            Blaise barely prevents his jaw from dropping, and spots a few classmates who weren’t as controlled as himself. How didn’t that violate the Statue? And why would she even want to use Muggle technology? Magic is better!

            “How doesn’t that violate the Statute?”

            “It’s not as if we’re giving Muggles the PalmPilot’s we’ve reverse engineered to run on magic,” Professor Malka says, rolling her eyes. “In many parts of the world there’s been a resurgence of combining magic and Muggle technology. As long as the reconfigured items don’t get into the hands of Muggles, it’s not a violation of the Statute. On top of that, it’s primarily European Ministries that don’t allow for Muggle-Magical technology experimentation. I was incredibly surprised by how difficult it should have been to get my permits.” She grins. “However, as interesting as this conversation may be, that’s not the point of this class. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts, not Magical Engineering 101. As such, let’s start on that.” 

            Blaise glances around the room, and has to agree with the incredulous looks everyone is giving their new Professor. _Another Muggle-loving fool_ , he grumbles to himself. _Can’t they ever hire on someone with proper beliefs?_

            “Professor, why would you want to use Muggle technology?” Parkinson asks, apparently not willing to let the matter go. “Why waste your time?”

            “How is it a waste of my time?” Professor Malka asks, giving Parkinson a flat look. “You do realize Muggle technology vastly outstrips magical, correct? That the dramatic increase in Statute violations is in part because wizarding technology is at times _centuries_ behind Muggle, and thus wizards attempting to interact with the Muggle community frequently ends in failure because they don’t understand what they’re dealing with?”

            “They can’t be that advanced,” Malfoy sneers. 

            “July 20, 1969, American Muggles landed on the Moon,” Professor Malka says, making Blaise choke because _what_? “In fact, they landed and returned six times. Sending people to space is a matter of fact in the Muggle communities, not just a fantasy. _Mir_ , a space station run by the Russian Muggle government, allows for Muggle scientists to spend extended periods of time living in space and running various experiments. Trust me, Muggles have vastly outstripped the Wizarding World in terms of technology. As is, most technology we use is Muggle created but then altered with various magical bits.” She taps her fingers against her desk, looking thoughtful. 

            “I’m here to teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts, but if you are interested in learning about Muggle-Magical interaction, I’m more than happy to teach you. I’ve noticed from looking over the overall Hogwarts curriculum that you aren’t required to take Muggle Studies, which is a mistake in my opinion, and you are overly focused on English history. I was a bit surprised when speaking with Sirius Black to discover he knew almost nothing about the Enclaves, even though they make up the majority of the United States’ Wizarding communities.” Professor Malka cracks her knuckles.

            “But again, for the time being, this is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Check your syllabi, and lets discuss how what readings you’ll need to do for next time.”

            Blaise frowns at the white paper, not the tanner parchment he’s used to using. He…well, he really is starting to wonder just how this year will be going. Because she doesn’t exactly sound…impressed by Hogwarts.

            This could definitely be interesting. He’ll need to mention Professor Malka to his Mum.

                                                                                          

           

             

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. If Esther had been Sorted, she would have been in Ravenclaw. For her, knowledge and knowing is a major motivation, especially with the unknowns in her own life. There's a reason she spends so much of her time as a 'scholar'.  
> 2\. The Shinkansen is the famous Japanese bullet train. Esther made the mistake of sitting backwards on the train (as in, she faced the back of the train rather than the front). She got badly motion sick.   
> 3\. Hey look, ships are appearing!  
> 4\. During the mid-90s the US didn't have a space station. The International Space Station wasn't launched until 1998, which I didn't know until writing this chapter and wanting Esther to bring up the Space Race (loosely) as a method of pointing out Muggle technology advances. Mir, which was originally Soviet and then Russian (obviously), was active during the mid-90s.   
> 5\. The Statute of Secrecy exists as one of those laws in Harry Potter that make sense in terms of existing, but not in terms of execution. Seriously, different countries/cultures are going to have wildly different views on how it should work. Also, the law is surprisingly recent (only about 600 years or so). But yes, the Statute itself does not affect magical alterations of Muggle items, unless they're then back in Muggle hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Plan for now is updating every two weeks. Lets see how well I actually *stick* to that. Canon will be abused, sometimes ignored (*cough* Rowling's Magical America *cough*)


End file.
